


Amnesia

by sentimental_boy



Series: Eggsy Unwin shorts [8]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25375003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentimental_boy/pseuds/sentimental_boy
Summary: You and Eggsy get in a car accident and Eggsy loses all memory of your life together. Now he has to figure out how to adjust to his new life and this new person who seems to care for him so much.
Relationships: Gary "Eggsy" Unwin/Reader
Series: Eggsy Unwin shorts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1409980
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

You almost wish you could say that you were unable to do anything except wring your hands while you waited for the doctor to come out and give you the verdict. Maybe that would make you a better wife. Maybe it would make his mother like you more. But you're a Kingsman, and a good one, at that. Part of what makes you such a good agent is that you know how to keep a stiff upper lip. Yes, you cried when you saw the reality of your husband’s body lying lifeless— or so you thought at the time— on the hood of your car. You thought this job would be the death of him. He did too, as much as he approached taking down sex trafficking rings and would-be assains with the glee of a child on Christmas morning. But there he was, bleeding onto the paint, glass shattered in a mosaic around and over his body, his head the blunt object that brought it to such a fate.

You wish you could look down at a clipboard of forms with empty lines, waiting for you to fill them in. Then his mother could stop glaring at you from across the waiting area. But because he risks his life and well-being so often, he has these things prepared. Instead, you find yourself scrolling through your phone, desperately trying to distract yourself. It isn't working.

“Aren’t you worried?” Michelle all but pleads from where she’s sitting.

Your eyes shoot up from your phone. “ _Of course_ I’m worried.” You want to ask her what kind of question that is. You started dating Eggsy a little while after he became a Kingsman and she's always believed that you forced him into this posh life. The timelines don't add up if you think about it for longer than a minute, but she needed somewhere to put the blame for him changing and it landed on you. You'd make the case that the only thing that's changed about him is his job but she won't hear it. He's even tried to clear the air on the subject— didn't want his wife and Mum at odds— but it never did any good. You've tried to cut her some slack. If you endured a controlling and abusive relationship for years, you can imagine doing whatever it takes to protect your kid from anything resembling what you went through. But that's not what's happening here and _good lord,_ you are not in the mood to deal with her bullshit today. But her son is on the operating table and you were the one behind the wheel so for the first time, her glares may have some validity to them. But does she really think she’s the only one who cares about him? You’re _married_ for fuck’s sake.

“Well, I don’t know how you can be on your phone while you’re waiting to find out if someone you say you love is going to live.”

“Michelle, I know you’ve never liked me, but I love your son _so_ much. I know you’ve both been through a lot but all I’ve ever done is be there for Eggsy. I’m handling this the best way I can. Do you think social media is actually distracting me right now? Would it make you feel better if I sat here, staring into space, wringing my hands? Do you think it would help _Eggsy_?”

“Of course not. Despite what you may think, I’m not stupid. But I don’t understand how you can do anythin’ else.”

“I never said you were stupid and I don’t think that. I know how much Eggsy loves you and it’s always broke my heart that you and I didn’t have a better relationship. People deal with grief and anxiety in different ways. If there was ever a time for us to try to understand each other better, it should be now. I don’t have the mental capacity to be worried sick about Eggsy— _because I am_ — and exchange passive-aggressive comments with you.”

“Oh, so instead, you’re gonna come right out and say it.”

“Yes, because I’m hoping it will put an end to whatever feud we’ve had going since the first day you met me. Isn’t it exhausting?”

“That’s a word for it.”

“Alright, I’m glad we agree.”

—0—

It doesn’t get better. The doctor comes out and informs you that Eggsy’s in a coma; that they don’t know when he’ll wake up. She gives you a range of hours to years. She doesn’t add never as an option, but the way she trails off is enough to bring tears rushing to your eyes. You always thought news like this would come as more of a shock. That your brain would take longer to process it and you’d cry when it hit you later. But as it is, you struggle to thank the doctor and wait for her to leave before you break. Michelle started sobbing when the doctor first said that it wasn’t good.

The nurses urge you to go home, assure both of you that they’ll call when they have news and that there’s nothing you can do here. It doesn’t stop either of you from going to his bedside.

It’s not pretty. He has a tube down his throat, hooking him up to the ventilator pumping artificial breaths in and out of his body. Various chords wind from his arms, connecting to bags suspended above him and machines set up next to him. More chords come out from where he’s bundled under the blankets, no doubt taped to his chest. He doesn’t look peaceful, he looks lifeless. You wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but Michelle’s sobs become even more desperate at the sight of him. As your own sobs take you over, hers fade out to a distant echo on your way to his bedside.

Tears fall faster than you can wipe them away, so you stop trying. The backs of your hands are long since soaked in them and your jeans now soak your tears in as they fall to your lap. You don’t remember the last time you cried like this. Your chest and throat hurt from the harsh breaths you keep taking. The cold air keeps hitting the lump in your throat, making you feel like you’re not getting air in any way that matters. If you could think beyond this crushing fear and grief— premature as it may be— you’d be glad that the tears are blurring your vision, because you can’t handle the image of Eggsy lying there like that.

—0—

At some point, you stopped crying. The tremors stayed but there were no more tears left and Eggsy’s limp body came back into focus before you. You stayed for a while, getting used to the sight because you had to. You have to leave to shower, eat, and sleep, but over the weeks, he remains the same. At one point, after seeing you glued to her son’s side, Michelle even apologizes for doubting you over the years. You’re not sure how long the sentiment will last when he wakes, but it’s a needed one with all the time you’re spending together. She doesn’t get around as much as she’d like to since she has to care for Daisy, but you think that’s for the best. It gives her a distraction, and you can agree that Daisy doesn’t need to see her big brother like this. As an adult who loves him, it’s hard enough. A kid— especially one who idolizes her brother as she does— doesn’t need to be introduced to the impending sense of mortality we all face; not like this.

You get out of the shower to a missed call from the hospital _and_ Michelle. You scramble to check your texts and sure enough, you have one from Michelle, telling you that Eggsy’s awake. You’ve never gotten changed or driven so fast in your entire life.

—0—

Eggsy wakes up with his mum at his side, her hand covering her mouth as she watches him.

“Mum?” He mumbles. “You alright?”

She lets out a sob and he moves to comfort her, only to feel the sharp prick of a needle as he bends his arm. He glances around at the curtain in place of a wall on his left, the pale blue walls, the fluorescent lights. With each thing he notices, it seems something else comes up faster. He’s in the hospital, he has wires everywhere possible, he has on a starched white gown and his mum is trying not to overwhelm him in the seat beside him.

“Fuck. What ‘appened? Did Dean do this to me?”

“Oh, my sweet, beautiful, boy. I’m so sorry you ever had to ask that.”

He furrows his brows. “Mum— what the fuck you talkin’ about?”

“Eggsy,” She reaches out, stroking his face. “You ain’t ever gotta deal with ‘im again. No thanks to me.” She murmurs. “You got us out, love, remember?”

Eggsy sits there, thinking for a long moment. “Shit, he musta knocked me ‘round real good this time.” He shakes his head.

“You don’t remember that?” Michelle asks, nervous now. “With that fancy tailorin’ job of yours, you got Daisy an I a ‘ouse an' all.”

Eggsy studies her for a long moment. “You’re serious?”

She doesn’t say anything. “It’s alright. You just woke up. Let me go get the doctor.” She squeezes his hand and kisses his forehead before she leaves the room.

—0—

You barrel into his room, your heart in your throat, allowing yourself hope for the first time since the accident.

When you see him sitting up in bed, you breathe out a sob of relief in the doorway. “Eggsy, thank fuck you’re okay.”

He looks over from the bed and he still has that cheekiness about him. He’s almost flirting, the way he looks at you with his quirked brow and a shit-eating grin. “Never ‘eard a doctor talk like that before.”

 _Doctor?_ You furrow your brows. “Eggs, you know who I am, right?”

“You ain’t my doctor?”

“Eggsy, I’m your wife.”

His face falls as he realizes you’re serious. He looks down at his left hand, finding no ring there. “Doesn’t look like you let me pick some gaudy, gold, and diamond-encrusted ring.”

You pull a chain out of your shirt, his father’s Kingsman medal dangling next to a ring. “You’re right. You fell in love with the first gold and diamond monstrosity you found. I helped you find this.”

—0—

You were ring shopping with Eggsy. He had a smug grin on his face all day, as he walked hand in hand with you around the store in his hoodie and snapback. He was looking at you more than the rings, but the whole point of going together was so you could pick your ring. He’d give input when you asked, but he was happy to put any of them on you. So, when you found the perfect ring, he saw it on your face before he knew what the ring looked like.

“That the one?” He grinned.

You looked over at him, surprised to meet his eyes right away instead of seeing him look at the ring. “I think so, yeah. How’d you know?”

He shrugged. “I’m good at readin’ people. Good at readin’ _you_.” He kissed you on the cheek, his hand never leaving yours.

“Yeah, okay.” You smiled at him. “Your turn now.”

He shrugged and reached for his wallet.

It took you a minute to figure out what was going on. Of course, the ring had to be paid for, and you were planning on buying his anyway. Now’s as good a time as any to get that out of the way. So, you held onto his arm while he paid. It wasn’t until he started leaving the store that you realized. He thought you were prompting him to pay when you said it was his turn.

“Eggsy!” You say as you leave the store, having the good sense not to make a scene, at least.

He looked over at you, surprised for a second. “Yeah?”

“I wasn’t telling you to pay, I was telling you it’s your turn to pick out a ring. You want one, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I figured I’d get one, but the fun part’s you choosin’. I’ve only ever seen plain bands for men. It’s no big deal for me. Silver or gold, right?”

“I'm sure they have more interesting ones. Either way, we should get yours today too.”

He looked you over for a minute, grinned, and leaned in to kiss your lips. “Yeah, okay. Let’s head back in.”

“Back so soon?” The man behind the counter who helped you asks.

“Yeah, he needs a ring too. Do you have anything interesting for him?”

“Right this way.” He walked to a display and pulled out two trays of rings.

You saw Eggsy’s face light up and followed his gaze. It wasn’t difficult to guess which one he was looking at, but you never wanted to be wrong so bad. It was a thick, gold band with a row of six diamonds lined up right down the center. It was… uninspired at best. You move your gaze to the other rings— difficult as it is with that thing yelling for attention. After a few seconds, your eye keeps going back to that one and you notice Eggsy doing the same. So you looked over the other tray, this one with no hideous things glaring at you. Among them, you see a black band, the inside gold, with a crisp, gold line wrapping around the black of the outside. The line doesn’t meet in a perfect circle, instead, it wraps around the front to create parallel lines, each end topped with a round diamond.

“Eggs, what do you think about this one?”

He turned his head to see what you were pointing out. “Oh, babes, I love that.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s much better than the first one I was lookin’ at. This one’s eyecatchin’ but it has an elegance about it.”

“That’s what I was thinking. I immediately knew which ring you were looking at when he first pulled the trays out, but this one suits you so much more. Do you want to look around a little more, though?”

He looked deep into your eyes with a grin. “Don’t need to.”

—0—

Eggsy eyes the chain hanging around your neck. Well, he’s looking less at the chain, and more at his father’s medal he remembers so well, alongside the ring he has no memory of.

“That’s— really nice.” He looks over the ring on your finger, and the warring emotions on your face as you desperately try to take this in stride. He doesn’t want to sound accusatory or demanding— you seem nice enough— but he wants his dad’s medal back. “So, did I give that to you?” He motions to the necklace with a jerk of his chin.

“Oh, no. The doctors took it off you and when I was released, I collected your things for you. I um—” You reach up to undo the clasp. When the weight of his ring still hanging from the chain settles into your palm, you wonder what he even wants to do with it. “I know you don’t remember me, so this must be _a lot_. I can’t imagine. You can keep the ring if you want. Obviously, it’s yours. I can take it too, though, if this is all too much. I know I’m not the only thing you don’t remember, this is about you.”

“Do you mind keepin’ it safe for now?”

The question paired with the careful politeness he delivers it with might as well be a knife to the gut. That pressure behind your eyes has to mean they’re red from the unshed tears. You’d do anything if it meant he didn’t have to see you like this. If it meant you could spare him from how bad his decision hurt you. It’s not his fault; he shouldn’t have to feel guilty. “Yeah, I can do that. Whatever you need.” You’re surprised that your voice only quivers a little.

“Thank you.” He says as you hand him his necklace, watching you turn the ( _his_ , apparently) ring over in your hand. He hopes the words carry weight he means them to. Hopes you know he’s thanking you for putting your marriage and entire relationship— something he hopes was a one of a kind support system— on the back burner for now.

“Of course. So, how are you feeling?”

“Um, confused.” He lets out a humorless laugh.

“I’m sorry. I’ll answer any questions you have.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

You nod. “Makes sense. If you think of anything, let me know. Or your mum, of course.”

“Speakin’ of: do you know where she is? She left to get the doctor right before you got in ‘ere.”

“I saw her in passing on the way in. When she saw me she said she was goin’ out for a smoke.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Eggs. I can’t imagine that having a stranger hovering over you feels good. I’ll be in the waiting room if you need me.”

“Wait, I don’t even know your name. How am I supposed to find you?”

“Right.” You let out a breath. Seeing that he lets you along for the journey, this is going to be a long ride, with you remembering all the little things he doesn’t. You take a breath and tell him your name.

He repeats it, nodding. “Thank you. I can’t imagine what you’re goin’ through right now or what you’re holdin’ back for my sake. A lot, I’m sure. I um— thanks for givin’ me space to get used to everythin’.”

“Yeah, I um, this is going to be difficult for us to navigate.” You want to tell him you love him but you don’t want to scare him or give him anything else to stress over. “I um, I know you don’t know me but I care about you a lot. Anything I can do— or not do to make this easier, all you have to do is let me know.”

He nods. “Thanks.”

—0—

You decide to drive home and get some things together for him. As you drive this now familiar route, you think about all the times you’ve done this since he’s been in the coma. It’s not that you didn’t know this could happen, but you refused to let yourself think about the possibility that he wouldn’t remember you when he woke. It wouldn’t have done you any good, but you’re here now and the weight of it in your chest crushes you; makes it hard to breathe. You can’t stop thinking about it. Your husband has no idea who you are. All the moments you had together are lost. He could decide that your relationship is too daunting for him and demand a divorce. You love Eggsy so much, but given statistics alone, you always wondered if you’d grow old beside each other. You never imagined it would end up like this.

As the thoughts come to you one after the other, each one a new weight, pressure builds behind your eyes and your vision starts to blur. You have to pull the car over less than a mile from your house. You can’t get the look he gave you, the way he spoke to you out of your head. There was no recognition, none of the comfort you see reflected in his eyes when he gets home from work or back from walking JB. You let out a desperate sob. You never thought you’d get married. You didn’t see the point and you never thought you’d meet anyone who would change your mind about it. Then Eggsy came along and after years of chipping away at the walls you’d built up, after forming a bond and showing you over the years that he truly loved you, that nothing would change that, you caved. It still wasn’t something you needed but he wanted to get married so bad and you found that it didn’t scare you like it used to. That in itself was enough for you. You’ve only been married for half a year, but _wow_ were you two happy. It was like things _finally_ came together for both of you, so of course, it couldn’t last.

—0—

When you get back to the hospital, Eggsy's clothes in a duffle bag on your arm, you can still feel the lump in your throat. You had to take a minute at home to gather yourself. The last thing Eggsy needs is you crying at his bedside. Anyway, there was no reason to rush back when he has his mum, who he remembers, here. On your way back to his room his phone starts vibrating in the duffel bag. You stop to fish it out and see that it’s Jamal calling. _Fuck._ He doesn’t know yet.

“Hey, Jamal.”

“Hey.” You hear his voice get further away as he says your name and presumably checks that he called the right person. “Did Eggsy leave his phone behind?”

“No, I was actually bringing it to him right now, but Jamal, he’s not doing great.”

“Fuck, what happened?”

“He—” You have to take a breath before you continue. “While you were on the Madrid mission we got rear-ended by a semi. He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt because we were so close to home and with the type of danger we face all the time at work— something mundane as a seatbelt wasn’t something he was worried about, I guess. He went through the windshield and I thought he was fucking dead.” You have to pause to let out a sob.

“Hey, he’s not, though, right?” He tries to stay calm, hoping his energy will help you continue.

“Right, I’m sorry. He’s uh— he’s been in a coma for— fuck, almost a month now. He woke up today. He’ll be happy to hear from you.”

“That ain’t all, is it?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you crying because you’re so happy he’s alright?”

“Fuck, sorry, no. He doesn’t remember me. Or anything about his life. I’ve been by his bedside this whole time, but I was home showering when he woke up. I guess the first thing he asked was if Dean put him here.”

“Fuck. Poor Eggsy, man.”

“Yeah. If you’re not too tired from your mission, it would do him good to see another familiar face. Michelle is here but he’s— I can’t imagine what he’s going through right now.”

“Yeah, of course. Let me know what hospital you’re at and I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you, I’ll send you the address.”

“Alright, see you soon.”

You hang up and slip his phone back into the bag before you send the hospital address to Jamal. You take a deep breath and use the techniques you learned at Kingsman to push down everything you’re feeling before you get to Eggsy’s room. You’ve been doing that a lot today.

“Hey.” You murmur as you walk into the room.

“Hey,” Eggsy responds.

“Where’s Michelle?”

“Off terrorizing the nurses. I tried to stop her but she’s taking full advantage of me bein’ tied down to this bed."

You let out a breath through your nose. “Fussing over you like she was never able to when Dean was around.” You nod.

“So this is normal now?”

“Yeah. She’s pretty protective since you helped her sober up.”

He lets out a breath. “Well, it seems like my life only got better. My mum tells me I got a fancy job at a tailor shop on Saville Row.”

“It definitely paved the way for better things for you and your family. It brought you into my life, so I’ve been grateful you found your way there.”

He nods. “I’ve got a long road back to that life, don’t I?”

“If you want that back, you’ve got a great support system and we’re all ready to help you out.”

He sighs. “Yeah.” He decides to change the subject. “You decide to stay the night?” He jerks his chin toward the duffel bag on your shoulder.

“Oh, these aren’t for me.” You set the bag down on a chair. “I don’t know when you’ll be able to change, but I brought you some clothes, toiletries, and your phone. Jamal called and I updated him on everything that’s going on. He’s on his way.”

“Thank you. I’m lucky to have you takin’ care of me.” He winks.

That brings a sense of relief when, since he woke, your mind has been a revolving door of worst-case scenarios. He doesn't hate you, you're not making him uncomfortable or being too pushy. The hope that gives you makes you want to cry. Instead, you give him a fond smile. It's good to see him back to himself again, even if he's not the exact person you remember. “Yeah. Anything you need, I brought your phone, so you can text me now. I mean, that's not _why_. I brought it so you'd have something to do and so you can do a bit of your own research into your past when you're up to it.”

He lets out a little laugh at your rambling. “I appreciate it. I'm glad it'll be easy to get ahold of you now. Before I was taking to roaming the halls calling your name like a victorian ghost."

That gets a laugh out of you before you start wondering if he was actually looking for you. "Wait, did you—"

He shakes his head and laughs. "No. I would've asked the nurse for your number and called you. You're my wife, right? I assume you're my emergency contact."

"Right." You laugh again. "Like a victorian ghost." You repeat.

He grins, still laughing at his own joke as well.

The more time stretches, the more obvious it is that you need to pick up the conversation or leave him alone. "Right, I'm glad I had a chance to check-in. Um, I'll see you later."

It takes everything you have to leave, but you know if it was you in that hospital bed, you’d want the strange, sad man to leave you with your family and friends. You give an awkward wave on your way out because what the fuck else are you supposed to do? He waves back and there's far too much pity in his eyes. At least he doesn't feel obligated to let you stay and try to make stilted conversation.

It's been a few minutes since you sat in the waiting area, trying and failing to read a book on your phone. You're on your fifth time rereading the same sentence when you hear Jamal call your name. You lock your phone and stand to direct him to Eggsy's room, but he meets you with a crushing hug. You don’t want to break down— _again_ — but _fuck_ you needed this. You can’t help the sobs that rip themselves from your chest.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been a mess all— well, for weeks now but today especially. My hopes were through the roof this morning when I heard he woke, then I got here and he asked if I was his doctor.”

“Hey, don't apologize to me. I can’t imagine how that felt. Did he ask you to leave? Is that why you’re down here?”

“No, I didn’t know if he would and I didn’t want him to have to anyway. I got him some things from home, dropped them off in his room, and left.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Is that why you’re down here all alone?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t know, though. I want to be close but I don’t want to stress him out, you know?”

“That fucking sucks, mate. It makes sense, but—” he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. I feel for him, but you’ve got it just as bad. It’s two sides of the same, shitty coin.”

“Thanks for saying that. I didn’t realize how much I needed a friendly ear.”

“Yeah, of course. Listen, I’m going to go hang out with Eggsy for a bit but after that, I’m taking you out.”

“Jamal, you don’t have to do that, you must be so tired.”

He shrugs. “So are you. Rest up because I’m not taking no for an answer when I get back down here.”


	2. Chapter 2

You didn’t try to argue with Jamal. You knew it would be good for you to get out of these hospital walls and it was. He asked you how you were doing and for details about Eggsy’s situation. You asked him about his mission. He tried to deflect but you insisted. Hearing about work actually makes you want to go back. It would be good for you, too. But now Jamal is home, resting like he should’ve been hours ago; Eggsy’s upstairs doing the same; and you’re here in the waiting area, laying on the sofa, sleep more elusive than it's ever been.

Your phone vibrates, the text preview interrupting the game you’re numbing your mind with. You almost drop your phone when you see that it’s Eggsy.

>Hey, you up?

You let out a little laugh.

>>Yeah, what’s up?

You lay there for a minute, allowing yourself to find hope as you reread his text. when you think about it, grasping for straws like this isn’t cute, it’s pathetic. Still, you can’t stop thinking: _he reached out_.

“Mind if I—”

You jump about a foot when you hear his voice in front of you.

“Fucking shit.” You let out a breath as you get your bearings. When you look up, he’s grinning.

“Sorry, did I scare you?”

“A bit, yeah. I’m usually impossible to sneak up on, but I didn’t hear you.” You glance at the IV stand he's gripping. “I don’t know _how_ I didn’t hear you.” You mutter.

He laughs. It’s a quiet, reserved thing. If you didn’t know better, you’d call it fond. “You mind if I sit?”

“Of course not.”

He takes a seat next to you. You try not to get too excited.

“So, uh, how’d you know I was down here?” You ask.

“‘s it alright if I don’t rat out who ratted you out?”

“So it was Jamal.”

“Could’ve been a nurse or my mum.”

“Your mum would love it if you took this opportunity to cut me out of your life.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrug. “I never understood. Neither did you. Our best bet was that she thought I changed you too much.”

“Did you?”

You let out a defeated breath and busy yourself studying your hands. “I wasn’t the reason you started putting on a posh veneer. Your life changed. You never did.” You look into his eyes as you finish your sentence.

He hums, nodding. After a minute he pipes up again. “Still leaves nurses.”

“I never told the nurses not to tell you I’m still here.”

“There you go.”

“Well if the nurses told you, why were you so reluctant to rat them out in the first place?”

He takes a breath like he’s going to say something but stops short. “Fuck.”

That— him acting coy, you using logic to talk your way through his slapdash deflection, the little sulk on his face right now— gets a real laugh out if you.

Eggsy glances over at the sound of your laugh. He’s not sure why but seeing you like that makes him crack a grin of his own. “Yeah, alright.”

You both let out little huffs of laughter.

Another silence follows.

—0—

Eggsy sits next to the woman who’s supposed to be his wife with no memory of her and no idea what to say. She’s been nothing but good to him since he’s woken up. He didn’t even have to ask her to give him space. Hard as he could see that it was for her, she left him with his mum— who doesn’t like her— and went to get him his things from home. Well, from the house they share and he has no memory of. Fuck, he doesn’t even know where he _lives_. When he pictures home he sees their old place in the estates. But that’s not even the point. The point is that the woman sitting next to him did everything she could to care for him, then left so he would be more comfortable.

He glances over at you. He can see how stressed you are, trying to figure out what to say. He knows if he was in that position— well, he supposes neither of you can imagine what the other is feeling right now. But if he had a wife who had no memory of him, he imagines he’d think that everything had to be perfect. That he’d be desperate to win you back and if he fucked anything up, was too awkward for too long, you wouldn’t see the point in trying to salvage something you never had.

“So, we’re married.” He says, if for no other reason than to fill the silence.

“Uh, yeah. We are.”

He doesn’t know you but it’s sad watching how hard you’re trying to put on a brave face for him. “Hey,” he puts a hand on your knee. “Listen, um, I don’t—” He lets out a breath. “I don’t want to cause you any more pain. I can see how difficult this is for you. It is for me too but in _such_ a different way, _fuck_. Shit as it is, I’m almost glad it’s me who lost their memories because I don’t know if I could handle this kind of heartbreak.”

“Eggsy, what are you trying to say?”

“Right, I don’t want to dance around it either. Um, I don’t remember you. I know you know that and I ain't tryin' to twist the knife. What I’m tryin’ to tell ya is that I don’t want you to worry or think you have to tiptoe around me. I don’t know what my life was like the last few years but it sounds like more than I could’ve hoped for. Fuck, in my ‘ead, I’m goin’ back to the estates after this an’ Dean’ll beat the shit outta me again. There were so many times I _wished_ I’d wake up and it would’ve all been a bad dream.” He shakes his head. “I want to remember. It’s shit that I don’t remember our life together, but waking up to a wife who cares about me isn’t a nightmare. I understand that it’ll be awkward at first, but I want to get to know you. Again, I guess.”

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

He nods. “Good. And thanks again for bringing me my things. Not gonna lie, I was a bit worried I’d become a dressing gown type of man with the things my mum was saying. You’ve got no idea how happy I was to find sweats in that bag.”

You scrunch your nose up and lean in to stage whisper. “You have dressing gowns too.”

“No!”

“Yeah.” You laugh.

“Next thing, you’re gonna be tellin’ me they’re silk.”

“Well, I won’t say the words, but it won’t change the truth.”

“Oh, God.” He pauses. “So, if you ain't the one who changed me, who did?”

“His name is Harry. He was your mentor when you were first starting at the tailor shop. Taught you everything you knew.”

“About bein’ a tailor? No offense, but what’s the big deal?”

“It wasn’t only that. He took you under his wing, taught you how to be a proper gentleman, how to mingle with high society.”

“When did I start carin’ what that lot thought?”

“Since you met Harry and he gave you a chance to leave your old life behind, and help your mum and sister.ot to mention yourself.”

He hums in acknowledgment and bites his lip. “Had to be there, I guess.” He lets out a humorless laugh.

“Well, there’s a lot more to the story. I wasn’t there for most of it. We met later.” You pause. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.

“Well, I do need to know these things and from what I understand, you’re the person to ask. Do you know all my passwords an’ shit too?”

“I know your phone passcode and your login to your work and personal electronics. Other than that, I know where you keep your records and that you have various security information in your notes app on your phone. Despite—” _being a spy_ , you think. “Knowing better.” You say.

He raises his brows. “I take it this is an ongoing issue?”

"A bit, yeah, but I'm mostly teasing."

There’s a minute where he stops to think whether he can joke about it but he figures you know him as well as anybody and you like him well enough. “Yeah, well, who got the last laugh there?”

You seem taken back for a moment before you respond. “Only time will tell, I guess.” There’s a beat of silence. “But I’ll give it to you this time. Having them written down will come in very handy.”

“So um," He pauses, not sure how to move on to a more serious conversation. "Our marriage was good? We were happy— in love?” He can see your walls go up at the question. Not because the answer is no, per se, but because you don’t want him to see how sad it makes you that he even has to ask.

“Um, yeah. We both have— had hectic lives. Sometimes we’d go months without seeing each other.”

“ _Months_?”

“Yeah. It’s rare, but we’d have business trips to meet high-paying clients. Sometimes they would overlap and we’d miss each other in-between. But it worked for us. We loved each other and spending time together but our lives didn’t revolve around the other person either.”

He nods. “That’s good, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Yeah, I—” He stops.

“Eggsy, you can tell me anything. It might not feel like it, but we built up a lot of trust over the years. The fact that we’re married at all says that much.”

He nods. “Yeah, I’m glad to hear it. Whenever I thought about bein’ in a committed relationship, I thought about that trust I’d ‘ave with that person and the closeness we’d share.”

“Yeah, I never wanted to get married but you changed my mind. Six months of marital bliss is all we got before this.”

“Six months? We’ve only been married for six months?”

“Yeah. We’ve been together for two years, Known each other for three, married for six months.”

“That makes sense." He seems to calm as he processes it. "You didn’t want to get married before you met me?”

“No, and not for two and a half years after I met you.”

“How’d I change your mind?”

“Well, when I was growing up, my parents forced very traditional gender roles on me and that transferred over to their view of marriage. My whole young life they instilled in me a lot of toxic ideas about marriage and I wanted nothing to do with it.”

He nods. “Yeah, I never had the best role models either. I knew it didn’t have to be like that for me, though.”

“Well, I knew in my head that I’m not my parents and that it wouldn’t have to be what they told me it was supposed to be. But I was still scared of it for a long time.”

“What did they tell you about it?”

“They took the bible and used it as an excuse for their bigotry. They demonized women who had the gall to stand up for themselves or continue to make their own decisions if their husband disagreed with them.”

“Shit, that’s awful. I wish my mum had made more of her own decisions sooner.”

“Yeah, I was scared I’d get trapped in this awful thing like so many people I knew growing up.”

“Yeah, that’s understandable. But we’re married now, so you’re past all that?”

“It still makes me shudder to think about the way they think it ‘should’ be. On our wedding day, I started panicking and Roxy had to run and get you so you could talk me down. When she left to get you, I thought you were going to try to convince me everything was fine but the first thing you did was ask me if I still wanted to do this. _That’s_ what made me go through with it. Over the years you showed me how good it could be. You enhanced my life and made me feel so loved, you’re hilarious, loyal, and all you wanted was a piece of paper saying that we’re family now. I could do that for you.” You sniff.

—0—

Jamal and Harry were helping Eggsy get ready— which consisted of listening to him go on about how excited he was and how he never thought he’d get to do this with you.

“I’ll remind you that you’re not married yet,” Harry noted.

“Oh, come off it.” Jamal elbowed Harry. “She’s happy as Eggsy is, isn’t that right, bruv?”

“Of course she’s happy. It’s not like I’m forcin’ ‘er to marry me.” The words came out a bit muffled as Eggsy tried to get to the back corner of his jaw with the razor.

“Of course not. It was a bad joke, I’m afraid,” Harry apologized.

“You’re fine, Harry. But I would like to stop jinxin’ it, if it’s alright with you two. She don’t have the best history with the idea.”

“Few people do,” Harry said.

“Yeah, but she had to get past a lot of religious, sexist, conditioning. It’s why we didn’t do this a year ago.” He rinses the leftover shaving cream off his face.

“That’s shit, mate,” Jamal said.

“Quite.” Harry agreed.

Before Eggsy could respond, there was a knock at the door. “If you two jinxed this, I swear to god—” He was only half-joking as he opened the door.

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you guys, did you all turn your phones off?” Roxy asked.

“I’ve been getting ready, don’t know what their excuse is.” He threw the towel he was drying his face with over his shoulder. “Why, what’s goin’ on?”

“Getting ready? It’s been half an hour and you don’t even have your shirt on.”

“I was shaving.”

“For thirty minutes?”

“Okay, we were fucking around a bit. So what? You’re tellin’ me she’s ready?”

“Not—” Roxy sighed. “Nevermind, that’s not why I’m here. Your fiancee is having a breakdown in the other room. I tried to talk her down but she keeps spiraling.”

“Oh, I see, when she’s having a breakdown, she’s _my_ fiancee.”

Roxy rolls her eyes. “Eggsy, focus. If you don’t talk to her there might not be any need for you to finish getting ready.”

“Fuck, it’s that bad?”

“Yes, that’s why I used the words breakdown and spiraling.”

“Fuck. Okay. Um, hang out in ‘ere, I’ll take care of it.” He moves to let her in before he heads out.

“Hey, Charming, do you want to put on a shirt?” She asked, holding out a white button-up.

“Nah, gotta remind ‘er what she’s gettin’ outta this, yeah?”

Before Roxy could wrangle the towel off his shoulder and the shirt into his hands, he was sprinting down the hallway, drawing looks from the caterers.

“He’s like a child at times, I swear.” Roxy sighed, plopping down next to Jamal.

“Is he wrong, though? I ain’t gay, but if I was, he could get it.”

Roxy rolled her eyes.

~*~

You were in your dressing room, going in circles, thinking: what if this is a bad idea? What if I called it off? Eggsy would be heartbroken. We’d have to send everyone home, catering and already arrived and everything’s already set up. People have gotten ready and are on their way. But you’re _getting married_. You never wanted this. This isn’t a decision you should make because Eggsy wants it. Why aren’t you _excited_ — when a knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. You opened it to Eggsy in his suit trousers, shiny dress shoes, no shirt, and a towel around his neck.

“I heard you were havin’ a crisis.”

“And you couldn’t stop to put on a shirt?”

“You complainin’?”

“No, get in here.”

He headed to the little sofa and waited for you to join him. When you sat next to him, he waited for you to start talking. Soon enough, it became clear that you would need some prompting. “So, what’s goin’ on? You ain’t gettin’ cold feet on me now, are you?”

Your silence was telling enough. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him.

“Alright.” He nodded. “Do you still want to do this?”

You turned to him and those eyes were exactly what you were afraid of. You knew they’d break down your walls the second you saw the way they looked into your soul. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that question. Not off the bat, with no sense of frustration or judgment. “That’s what I’ve been freaking out about.” You admitted.

“Okay. I gotta say, that don’t fill me with confidence.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Look, I want to help you, but I can’t if you don’t let me in.” He lets you think for a moment before he continues. The silence and the fact that you were so unsure about this was sending his nerves through the roof, but he tried to stay calm for you. “Is it… everythin’ with your parents, growin’ up, them tellin’ you what your role has to be as a wife? Because you know it ain’t gonna be like that, right?”

“No, of course. I wouldn’t be here at all if it was that. Sure, it lingers. I’ve been so scared of marriage for so long that it’s a part of me now even if I got over the individual factors. I thought I was fine until Rox pulled out the dress and that’s when everything went downhill. I got it halfway on before I started panicing and had to get it off. Remember what you said about not wanting to do this unless I'm excited too?"

He nods. He can't bring himself to do much else.

"I don't know, when I was putting it on, I wasn't excited. I felt like I was forcing myself into someone else's skin."

Eggsy glanced at the dress that was hanging on the door. “Well, if the dress is the problem, I’ll marry you in your sweats, I don’t care.”

You let out a laugh. “Can you imagine the look on Harry’s face?”

“Oh, he’d keel over on the spot.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, to the best of their abilities, dress for the occasion.” You did your best impression of Harry.

Eggsy laughed and you realized what you realized the day he proposed. You’ll never get sick of him. That was never in question, though. The question was: were you ready for _this_. It was one that, unfortunately, Eggsy’s smile did not hold the answer to.

“So, I’m assuming it wasn’t the dress.” Eggsy moves back to the topic at hand.

“No. It was what the dress represents. I immediately felt trapped, thinking of everyone coming here for me, seeing me up there, _finally_ getting married. I can imagine them thinking: Look at her, finally committing to a man, as she should. I know so many of them will be picturing me turning into a docile little housewife. It shook me.”

He sighed, looking around the room while he gathered his thoughts. "Babes, you're a world class spy. Fuck, I love our job but sometimes I wish I could quit and be a house husband. I'd love to cook and pick Daisy up from school. Sometimes I wouldn't even mind doin' chores if I wasn't exhausted from gettin' my ass beat on the last mission. Then I could greet you with a kiss when you came home from work before you went to wash up for the dinner that would almost be ready."

You let out a laugh. "Wouldn't mind hiding you away, keeping you safe. You know, we could work something out."

He grinned, leaning in to kiss you. "We can revisit the topic in like... ten years or so."

"Yeah, I do love it when I get the chance to work with you. Even when I don't, it's so sexy to come home to my superspy fiancee."

"Agreed. There's somethin' special about you bein' my partner in everything. You're _such_ a badass, love. No matter what your family thinks this changes about you, it don't change that. I know when we get up there, in front of everyone, the only thing I'm thinkin' about is what we’re promisin’ to each other. An’ if it helps, think about Rox, an’ Harry, an Jamal. The people who _know_ us. They’re here celebratin’ our love, as it is— not as others perceive or wish it to be— with us.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” You leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you, you know. When you proposed, my first thought was: I don’t want to lose him.”

He froze where he was rubbing soothing circles into your back. “Is that why you said yes?”

“It factored into it. I figured there would be a rift in our relationship if I said no and it would grow into something that could break us over time.”

“ _Babes_ , fuck. You ain’t never gonna lose me, you hear? No matter what you choose when we walk out of this room, you’re not gonna lose me. I’m here to promise to love you for the rest of my life. That don’t change for me whether we get married or not.”

“Don't worry, Eggs, that wasn’t the only reason I agreed. I realized that that thought I had is the same reason you asked in the first place. Eggsy, I don’t want to lose you. I want you by my side for the rest of my life. I love you and I love what we have. I know that a piece of paper and one day proclaiming that isn’t going to change our dynamic.”

“So, the wedding’s still on?”

“Yeah.”

“And you know, if you do hate the dress and what it represents, I know we have a white suit back at the shop with your measurements on it.”

“What?”

“Yeah, when you were thinking about getting a suit for a minute there, our tailor was inspired and had to see it through. He said that if you didn’t wear it today, you’d use it for a mission at some point. Not gonna lie, it’s pretty great.” He leaned in conspiratorily. “There’s a cape.”

“What?!”

He looked at his watch. “We have time, we can run over.”

"Yeah, we gotta find you a shirt first." You laugh.

After that, you never went back to your own dressing room. You picked up the suit and brought it back to Eggsy's dressing room where you apologized for worrying everyone.

"It's better you have these thoughts and talk them out before the wedding." Harry noted.

"Should we leave you two alone to get ready?"

Eggsy only looked at you, letting you answer for the both of you.

"Nah, we can crack open a bottle of wine and have a great time before I have a panic attack going down the isle."

"You're going to be fine, love." Eggsy kissed your temple as he came to stand next to you. "I'll be right by your side the whole time. Besides, nothin'll say _fuck your outdated standards_ like that suit you're gonna look fuckin' fantastic in."

—0—

Eggsy leans in and wipes a stray tear from your face.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” You didn’t even know you were crying.

“No, that’s… a lot.” He pauses. “I think I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“I heard that this happened to me because I wasn’t wearin’ my seatbelt. That was so stupid.”

You shake your head. “No, I could’ve made you wear it. I should never have gotten on the road until you put it on. I didn’t even check.” You let out a sob, finally voicing the guilt you’ve been feeling since the accident happened.

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” He puts a hand on your knee, hoping you’ll look at him. But your hand is still over your face, trying to hide or control your tears. “Come here.” He murmurs. That gets you to look up. He holds his arms out, beckoning you closer. “Come on, it’s okay.”

You stare at him for a moment but he keeps his arms open, waiting for you to come closer. You finally let yourself believe that this invitation is real and you move to wrap your arms around him. It makes you sob anew, finally being back in his arms, even if it’s only because he feels bad for you. Now that you think about it, it’s partially _because_ he feels bad for you.

“I’m gonna repeat myself because I don’t know if you heard me before. It’s _not_ your fault.”

“Legally it is… I think.” You mumble between sobs. Jesus, you’re pathetic.

“Fuck that. I’m a grown man. You didn’t check because you aren’t my mum and you expected me to know what’s good for myself.”

Now is when, any other day, you’d lean back to look him in the eye, but you can’t bring yourself to let go. Not when he’s holding you so tight and you don’t know when you’ll get this again. “I don’t know about that. I’ve known you for three years. I expect you to be reckless more often than I expect you to know— or care about what’s good for you.”

He lets out a laugh and you can feel his breath against your neck. “Yeah, alright.”

—0—

Over the next few weeks, Eggsy heals and you spend time together when he’s up to it. It’s more often than you would’ve expected, which is amazing, but it’s been hard. Most of the time you’re catching him up on important things like work (or what you’re allowed to tell him about it) or putting names and stories to faces he has in his camera roll. Every once in a while, you’ll mention something that in your head is a given, but this _look_ will pass over Eggsy’s face. He’ll try to let you finish your story, hoping that he’ll remember or that you’ll come back around to it and he won’t have to ask _again_. But after a minute he'll have to interrupt you and ask you to clarify. You can tell it’s too much for him some days, but you don’t know what else to _do_.

Eggsy smiles when he sees you. Sometimes he almost seems like his old self. He’s quick to remind you otherwise. “So what am I learning about my life today?”

You shrug. “Any requests?”

“Well, I’ve learned about Harry, and Roxy. I learned that Jamal works with us now. Dean’s locked away as he should be. My mum and sister are safe and taken care of. Little Daisy is getting the best education. You an’ I led a happy life. You know what we haven’t been over yet?”

“Lots still. What did you have in mind?”

“How’d we meet?”

Your stomach drops at that. You don’t want to have to lie to him about any detail regarding your relationship, but it’s not that easy. You met outside of Kingsman but then your relationship grew as you worked together. You trusted each other with your life before you trusted each other enough to open up emotionally in front of the other.

“You okay?” Eggsy asks when you pause for too long.

“Yeah, sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. I get it. I’m sure it’s hard hearing your husband ask how you met like he wasn’t there.”

 _If only that was all._ “Yeah, it’s fine, though. I’m just happy that you’re asking at all.”

“Of course.” He shrugs. “I was always a one-woman type of guy, Jamal likes you, we look happy in pictures and videos on my phone. That’s enough for me. I want to know everythin' there is to know about us.” He pauses. “And you ain’t gotta wait for me to ask. I appreciate that you’re lettin’ me come to you when I’m mentally ready but if something reminds you of a moment we had or you find yourself thinkin’ about our life together, _please_ share it with me.”

You nod. “That’s good to know, I’ll do that, Eggs.”

“Good. Now, how’d we meet?”

“I thought it was going to be a one night stand. We met at the Black Prince—”

“I still go to that shit hole?”

“Sometimes, but not often. I came in and sat a couple seats down from you and we talked into the night. Then we went to your place and fucked. Then we talked some more, then I left in the morning, never to see you again.”

“ _What_? You were just going to leave me?”

“You didn’t seem to mind. Anyway, I was transferring from another store and it was my first day at the Kingsman we work at now. I didn’t want to be late and you had to work too. We were both ready for a normal day at work until we saw each other. It was a bit weird at first. We avoided each other for a while after that, both of us assuming that it was a one night stand. I pretended like that night wasn’t one of the easiest dates I’d ever had, like every time we worked together it didn’t make me wish things could’ve been different. The more I saw of you, the worse it got. You were fiercely loyal, cheeky, _so hot_.” You nudge him with your elbow and he grins. “After we got past the weird stage, we learned to work together and the conversation that came so easily that first night became a normal part of our lives. You made me laugh like nobody else could and one day I had enough. I pulled you to the side and told you everything. You told me that you’d been feeling the same the whole time.”

“That’s cute. I have noticed that where you’re concerned, everything’s a lot easier than I thought it would be.”

“I’m glad.”


	3. Chapter 3

You’re sitting in Eggsy’s hospital room with him and his mum when the doctor comes in. She’s supposed to let you know if Eggsy can go home yet. None of you are sure what exactly that means or what it’ll look like, but you’re done being at the hospital. Even if he chooses to stay with his mum and sister, at least you’ll have some peace of mind that he’s healthy.

“Gary, how are you doing?” His doctor asks.

“Good. I still don’t remember anythin’, but I’m better.

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better. There’s still a chance that your memories will come back, but the key to that is going back to your old routine. We’ve done as much as we can here, the rest is up to you and your family.”

“There’s still a chance I’ll get my memories back?”

“Yes. Your wife can help you sort through things, I’m sure—”

“Oh, he’s comin’ back with me.” Michelle pipes up.

The doctor stops short. So does your heart. You don’t know what you were expecting. A few weeks of him getting to know you again, you telling him some stories, doesn’t change the fact that for him, it’s between living with an acquaintance and his family.

“Mum, I never said that.” He glances at her before turning back to the doctor. “I’m sorry, go on.”

She hesitates as she glances between you and Michelle. “Mr. Unwin, would you like to have this conversation in private?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

He goes off with the doctor, leaving you alone in the room with Michelle. It’s not your favorite situation.

“Well, congratulations,” Michelle says.

You sigh. You don’t fucking need this right now. “On what, Michelle?”

“You won.”

“I won? What did I _win_ , Michelle?”

“He said he ain't comin’ home with me.”

“He didn’t say that. He just never said he _was_ doing that. Besides, you and I aren’t the only people in his life. He could’ve worked something out with Jamal. He has the means to have his own place now, he could be doing that. He never said he was going home with either of us." There's a minute of silence and you can't stop thinking about what she said. How can she have this attitude about her son losing his memories? It's not a fucking competition. "I won.” You scoff. “You can’t— this isn’t some game where Eggsy’s the prize. You and I don’t have to be inherently at odds. Do I want him to come home with me? Of course. Do you know what I want more than that?” When Michelle doesn’t answer you, you continue. “I want him to be happy and healthy. If I don’t make him feel that anymore, I want him to do what he needs to to take care of his mental health, especially while he’s recovering.”

She still doesn’t have anything to say.

You shake your head. Of course she’d say something like ‘ _you win’_ to get you riled up. The pair of you sit in silence until he comes back.

When he does, he looks between you and Michelle. “You two alright?”

“We’re good. How’d it go?” You ask.

“She repeated what she said out here and told me in detail how best to go about gettin’ my memories back if they’re going to come back. She also wanted to make sure I had space to make a decision without anyone trying to influence it one way or the other.”

“Yeah, that’s smart.” You nod. “Have you decided?”

“Yeah, as long as you’re fine with it, I was going to go home with you.”

You let out a breath. You’re not sure if it was one of relief that he's coming home or disbelief that he thought he had to ask. “Eggsy, of co—”

“Eggsy, you can’t be serious.” Michelle cuts you off. “You’re going to live with a complete stranger?”

It’s all you can do to keep yourself in check hearing that. You don’t know if it’s because she’s trying to take him from you now that she has the chance or if it’s because she’s right. Either way, you’re not going to be the one throwing a fit and making this harder on him.

“ _Mum_ you know it’s not that simple.”

“I don’t understand how you can be so defensive over someone you don’t even know!”

“Over someone I don’t _remember._ ” He's not sure if that makes a difference, but it feels like it does. "Are you keeping something from me? Did she do somethinn' awful to warrant this?"

"I— Eggsy, after you started dating, you changed."

"How? I started dressin' nicer? I made more friends? I had a place of my own for a while? _What_? Because everythin' I've heard so far makes it sound like I finally got my shit together. "

"I don't know how to say it, but you were different. Now, it's like I got my baby back."

He lets out a harsh breath and shakes his head. “Now that I can't remember anythin' about the life I built? Unless you have something real to tell me, actual examples, I don't want to hear it anymore. _Please_ don’t make this any harder than it has to be. She has more than proven herself to me. Since the day I woke up, she has bent over backward to make sure I was comfortable and felt as little pressure as possible. Did it ever cross your mind how difficult this is for her?”

“Eggsy, it’s difficult for all of us.”

“Yeah, but I remember you. _You_ got to be here every time the doctor updated us on my condition while we left her in the waitin' room wondering. I’m her _husband_ , mum, and I’ve got no idea who she is.”

“Exactly. So why are you defending her like this? Why are you going to live with _her_?”

He lets out a measured breath. “Because I want my life back and this is the best way to make that happen. Because these last few weeks, getting to know her, has made my time here a bit brighter.” He glances over at you with a sincere smile before turning back to his Mum. “It’s not like I’ll never see you again. I came ‘round to see you an Daisy before, yeah?”

Michelle nods.

“Well, I’ll probably be around even more now that I’m not at work for a while, yet.”

Michelle lets out a breath and hugs him. “I just want you to be happy, Eggsy. Just know that when it’s all too much, my door is always open, alright, love?”

He sighs, too tired to argue. “Alright, mum.”

—0—

When you get home, JB runs up to Eggsy, tongue lolling out, grunting all the way. He barks and jumps at Eggsy's legs until he leans down to pet him.

"I picked him out?" Eggsy looks up at you from where he's squatting down, rubbing JB's belly.

"Yep, you had him before we met. You thought he was a bulldog when he was a puppy. Roxy never misses an oppertunity to rib you about it." You pause. "Why, do you not usually like pugs or something?"

He shrugs. "I'm more of a cat person. I like dogs an' all, but I don't see myself goin' out to get one. They're a lot of work, you know?"

"I do know." You pause. "You never told me that."

"No?"

You shrug. "You two went through a lot together. We're busy people, so we weren't going to get any more pets to take care of. I suppose it wasn't worth hurting his feelings over.

He lets out a little laugh. "Is he trained an' all?"

"For the most part. He's picked up a lot of bad habits over the years. If we don't leave the door to your study open, he'll start scratching at it."

"I have a study?"

"We both do. Come on, I'll give you the full tour."

As you visit the different rooms, Eggsy nods along, relatively quiet. You can’t imagine how strange it is for him. It would almost be like time traveling. Like: alright, let’s see how I did.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy. We were going to tidy up when we got home and when I came home without you, I just—”

He waits for you to finish but when it’s clear you’re not going to, he responds. “No, I get it. Looks fine in here to me anyway.” He shrugs. “Doin’ pretty well for ourselves, ain’t we?”

You look around. Your living space is something you forget to appreciate most of the time. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

“An’ we get all this from bein’ tailors?”

“When you work on Saville Row, you do.”

“Guess so.”

“Yeah, so you can set your things down wherever. I’ll sleep on the sofa until you remember me or feel comfortable sharing a bed. Or we can get twin beds or move.” You sigh. “Sorry, I don’t want to pressure you at all.”

He shakes his head and squeezes your shoulder. “You’re doin’ great.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Thanks, babes.” There’s a beat where you don’t realize what you called him. Eggsy’s already processing and figuring out how to handle the situation when you grasp what happened. “Fuck. Eggsy, I’m sorry.”

“You’re totally fine. I’m not made of glass. You’re married to me, you gotta know that.”

“I do, but I didn’t mean—”

“I know. It’s fine, I mean it. Maybe don’t use pet names all the time just yet, but I understand. This is a foreign situation for both of us. I know you weren’t doin’ it to make me uncomfortable, which is great, because you didn’t.”

“It’s also great because that would be super manipulative and awful if I was doing it to make you uncomfortable.”

“Well, yeah, but that goes without sayin’.”

“I guess.”

“You know, I could sleep on the couch instead. Or we could take turns.”

You shrug. “We’ll see. Go ahead and take the bed tonight.

“Okay, but tomorrow it’s yours. I know you haven’t slept in a proper bed since I’ve been in the hospital. I’ve at least had a cot.”

“It’s a deal.”

“Alright, goodnight.”

“Yeah. Real quick, I have to go back to work tomorrow, so you’ll have the house to yourself. You can look around and get acclimated without me hoovering.” You let out a self deprecating laugh.

“That’ll be good, yeah.”

“So, I’m going to have to sneak in here around seven but I’ll be in the bathroom most of the time, so don’t worry about it if you hear me.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

—0—

You groan as your alarm goes off. Any other time— well, you’re still not happy to wake up early. It’s not usually this difficult, though. All you want to do is stay home with Eggsy now that the two of you have some privacy, be able to take him to some of the places you enjoyed together. You're hoping the familiarity of being home with JB will spark something. But you’ve been off work for almost two months as it is and Kingsman is still short on agents after the whole Golden Circle ordeal. It's bad enough that so many died that Kingsman promoted you, Roxy, and— before this— Eggsy to senior agents now. Your handful of agents must be exhausted.

So, you get up, and knock on your bedroom door. It's soft enough that if he’s awake, he’ll know you’re coming in, but not enough to wake him. When there’s no response on the other side, you crack the door open. Eggsy lies in bed peacefully asleep. For a minute, you think about all those days you sat at his bedside in the hospital waiting for any signs of life other than the screen tracking his heart rate next to him. But this isn’t anything like that. He’s untethered from any wires and instead of lying on his back in eerie silence, he’s snoring softly on his side. Your heart breaks at how normal this scene has the gall to be when everything is so different. For instance, if he were to wake up with you staring at him, before, he would’ve made a cheeky comment and gone back to sleep. Now you have no idea what he’d do or how it would make him feel.

So you stop and go to your closet to grab one of your suits and head to the bathroom to change. You put on your trousers and change your bra but wait to put your shirt on until you’re finished with your makeup.

—0—

Eggsy wakes in a strange bed and lays there, confused for a minute as he refamiliarizes himself with his new life. He sits up, looks around the room, sees the closet is open and figures you already left for work. It’s why he doesn’t think twice about heading to the toilet.

Then he’s opening the door and you’re there with your tits out— well, you have a bra on, but close enough— and he’s frozen, wishing he could make himself do anything other than stare.

You surprise him by breaking out into a laugh after you see him gaping in the doorway. “Eggsy, are you alright?” You ask when he doesn't move.

He takes a breath and drags his eyes up to your face. “Uh, yeah, yeah. I’m good. Are— are you okay?”

You laugh again. “Yeah, Eggs, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“I— guess you’re right.” He pauses. “I didn’t mean to walk in on you, though. I’m sorry.”

“Really, I do not care at all. As long as you’re okay, so am I. Did you have to go to the restroom?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll get out of here, then.

—0—

When you get to work, Harry greets you with a nod and your real name, not your code name as you’re used to when you’re on base.

“Harry,” You greet him in return, instead of addressing him as Arthur. “How has it been since I left?”

“We’ve been managing, though worse off without both you and Eggsy.”

“Yeah, we didn't have enough agents before all this. I can’t imagine what you guys have been dealing with these last couple months. I'm so grateful that you let me take that much time off.”

“Please. You and Eggsy might as well be my own family— though I could never say so in front of new recruits. Wouldn’t that reek of preferential treatment?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Well, I’m going to keep you as local as I can while Eggsy still has the chance to remember… everything. From what I understand, routine and familiar faces are paramount to that end.”

“To simplify it, yes. It’s too bad I’m not familiar to him.”

“How are you doing with that?”

You let out a harsh breath. “Fuck, Harry, I don’t know. As well as I can be. This morning, I took a step toward the bed to kiss him goodbye before I realized what I was doing. Last night I fucking _waved_ at him when we went to bed. It wasn’t a deliberate thing, either. I realized that a hug might make him uncomfortable, so I raised my hand to wave then halfway through I decided it was weird and I stopped. He was nice about it— _fuck_ , listen to me, I’m describing my husband a _nice_ , how descriptive and not at all a given.” You sigh. “He acted like it was normal and waved back. But it’s awkward now. _This morning_ , fuck, I was in the bathroom, doing my makeup, and I hadn’t put my shirt on yet. He walked in— he didn’t realize I was in there— and he acted like a teenager who had never seen tits in a bra before.”

Harry sits there for a moment.

“I’m sorry, fuck, you didn’t need to hear all that.”

He shakes his head. “No, when I told you that you’re like family to me, I meant it. You know my relationship with my family is turbulent at best. You and Eggsy are the closest things I have to it anymore and I wouldn’t change that if I had the chance. I’m here for you even if I can’t be there for Eggsy as well. The benifit of not being a blood relative is that I _can_ hear stories like the last one without cringing. I was trying to think of something useful to add. I can’t imagine how difficult that is for both of you. Professional as you are, everyone could see how in love the two of you were. Eggsy may have forgotten but I know you’ll get back what you had. He’s home with you, so I assume he’s willing to give it a shot.”

“Yeah, he said he wants to do everything he can to remember.”

“That’s all you can ask of him.”

“But what happens if he doesn’t remember?”

“If and when he gets to a point where he has to stop viewing that as a viable option, I’m sure the two of you will have a strong enough foundation to build your relationship back up. But when it comes down to it, that’s something you’ll have to ask Eggsy about. I suspect you already know that.”

“Yeah." You murmur. "But what about work? He’s amazing at this job. I don’t even know what else he’d do. Besides, I’m worried that not having any exposure to this will stunt his progress.”

“Yes, that is a concern we had as well. You’re right, he's one of our top agents. I don’t see any reason he can’t come back so long as he passes the tests again.”

“Thank Fuck.”

“I know you’re concerned about Eggsy— we all are— and you’re doing your best to see him through this, so I appreciate that you brought this up before you said anything to him. I know that despite the unique challenges he faces, he’s the same man we know in all the ways that matter. I don’t believe we’ll have to worry about him saying anything.”

“Right, me either.”

“That being said, I need to know you’re ready to do what’s needed if he has a poor reaction. Is your watch loaded?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re ready to use it?”

You take a deep breath and lie. “Yes.”

“Good. Then you’re free to go for the rest of the day. I presume you’re a bit out of practice after a couple of months off. You can spend the day reacquainting yourself with the gym and I should have some local missions coming up for you soon.”

—0—

Eggsy wakes up for the second time at 11:30. It feels strange getting up and going into a stranger’s kitchen to raid the fridge. He has to keep reminding himself that it’s his kitchen, his bed, his clothes. And the clothes are something else. He had a suit for special occasions growing up, but never in his adult life and never _bespoke_. From the looks of it, there’s nothing _in_ his kitchen, but that’s better than rotten vegetables and spoiled milk from before he went to the hospital. He lowers his standards and searches the cupboards before settling on eating dry cereal from the box like it’s trail mix and sits on the sofa.

He doesn’t turn on the TV, instead taking the time to absorb his surroundings for a minute. A glance down at the coffee table yields a plain DVD in a clear case with unfamiliar handwriting scrawled over the top. It's sitting on top of a long, green document and there’s a note next to it on paper he recognizes from a magnetic pad on the fridge.

_Eggsy, this is our wedding video, as I’m sure you can read. I thought I’d get it out for you along with our marriage certificate. I won’t pretend to know how you’re feeling or that I know what it’s like on the other end of this situation. I can only imagine that I’d want proof if I was to deal with constant puppy eyes from a stranger claiming to be my spouse. I don’t expect you to watch it today, but I wanted you to have access to it whenever you’re ready._

_P.S. Sorry there’s no food, we’ll go shopping tonight or tomorrow. You have Doordash for delivery options on your phone. (I don’t think that was a thing you’d remember, anyway.) Hope you have a good day, I’ll see you tonight._

In a more hurried scrawl beneath, the letter continues.

_P.S.S. Don’t worry about this morning. I meant it when I said that it was no big deal. If I’m honest, you haven’t looked at my tits like they’re the first pair you ever saw for quite some time now, so it was cute. But I could tell you were embarrassed, so I felt bad. I hope we can have a laugh about this some day._

He lets out a breath and tries to take all that in. Seems like that’s all he’s doing these days. He shoves another handful of cereal in his mouth and wipes his hands on his sweatpants before he leans to pick up the marriage certificate. As he’s reading it, he has this impending sense for familiarity but he can’t quite place it.

Then he gets to the last box and it hits him.

—0—

Eggsy sat beside you as he filled out his portion of the Marriage Certificate. You rested your chin on his shoulder, reading the boxes you’d be filling out next.

“Rank or profession of father? What do they need that information for?”

Eggsy shrugged. “I don’t know, look at the top, it says Marriage act of 1949, right there. Don’t imagine they were too progressive back then.”

“Guess not. But it’s interesting that they haven’t changed it since then.”

“Are you surprised?”

“Guess not. It’s just a weird question to see now.”

“Yeah, in the spot where it says condition, my mum and da put spinster and Batchelor.”

“ _Spinster_? This was in the 80s, yeah? _Spinster_?”

“I know. I had a laugh when I saw it too.” He slid the paper over to your side of the coffee table.

You took the offered pen from his hand and leaned forward to start filling out the document. He leaned in close and put his arms around your waist, watching as you held the pen over the green paper.

“Somethin’ wrong, love?” He asked after a minute.

“I— Eggs, I love you. I don’t know why this is so hard for me.”

“I love you too.” He kissed your cheek before he let go of you and sat back. “That’s why I want to do this. Always wanted to get married, to have what we’ve already got. All this is sayin’ is: legally, we’re together. Doesn’t mean anythin’ is gonna change between us. Besides, I’m gonna love callin’ you my wife.”

“I wish I could say that I look forward to hearing it.”

As much as that statement hurt, he could see that you wanted to get past it. So there was no accusation in his tone when he asked “Love, if you don’t want to do this, why’d you say yes?”

“Because I love you and I know that the word wife doesn’t actually mean property, that it doesn’t go hand in hand with subservience and submission. I’m over it and I’m not letting my parents ‘ideals’ get in the way of our happiness.”

“Is that really how it feels when you hear that word?”

“Yeah, and husband equals boss. Neither are good. I know that’s not what we’ll mean when we say our vows and that’s not what it means to _most_ people. It’s unfortunate, but the words are inherently negative to me, even though I can picture a happy marriage with you. And this contract, asking for only my father’s surname and profession, I know it’s dumb, but it feels like I’m signing my life away.”

“Shit. Love, it ain’t dumb at all. I knew your parents gave you issues but you never said it quite like that before.”

You shrugged. “It made you so happy and it’s not your fault that I have these issues. I know that’s not how you see it.”

“You were going to do that for me?”

“I still am, I just— I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” You leaned forward, grabbed the pen, and started filling out the boxes.

Eggsy sat next to you, watching you fill out the paper with a hard-set brow, writing like you had to finish before you could talk yourself out of it. Nothing about this felt good. He knew how stubborn you were when you put your mind to something. Watching you do this, he knew that you steeled yourself for this when he proposed. You only got two boxes in before he took the pen out of your hand.

“Eggsy, what—”

“I’m not lettin’ you do this to yourself. You’ve got a lot of unaddressed trauma there and I don’t want you to marry me if you’re going to regret it later.”

“Well, _trauma_ is a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"It's something that happened to you and it's still scaring you while you're in a happy, loving relationship. It's been years and you haven't been able to wash away that toxic mentality. I ain't a doctor but that sounds like trauma to me."

"Okay, but you just said that you’ve always wanted to get married.”

“And I still do. More than most things. World peace, a happy life for my family, and _your_ happiness are the only things that come before that. You’re included in my family, by now, if you didn’t already know. Marryin’ you don’t have anythin’ to do with that. If this isn’t going to make you happy, if you aren’t _excited_ about it, I don’t want it either. Forcing a marriage isn’t worth making you feel trapped and ruining what we have.”

You had no idea what to say to that, so you pulled him in for a kiss. It took him a second to respond, but then he pulled you closer and returned the kiss. “I love you, Eggs.”

“Love you too.” He took a minute to look into your eyes. “You wanna stay engaged or call the whole thing off for now?”

“I like the idea of being tied to each other but I’m not quite ready to sign the papers, I guess. I do want to marry you, in practice. _That’s_ why I said yes. I don’t want out or need anyone else. I love our life together.”

“Sooo… does that mean we’re stayin’ engaged?”

“If you want.”

“Of course I want to, I’m the one who proposed. Do _you_ want to?”

“Yeah, I want to.”

“Wonderful. Now, if and when you sign that paper, I want to be next to you and I want to be excited about it together, yeah?”

“Deal.”

“Great, now what do you say we head to bed and celebrate a continued engagement?”

“You’ve got all the great ideas.”

—0—

Eggsy blinked down at the completed document, not knowing what to do with the scene that came to his mind at the green sheet’s beckoning. He’s… excited? He’s excited, of course he is. It’s the first memory he’s recovered. He should be excited, anyway. Instead, where he should be elated, electrified, filled with sudden energy and joy at the news, he’s left with a more grounded feeling. Like the information knocked the wind out of him and settled like a weight in his stomach, pinning him to the sofa until he can fully absorb it.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, trying to process the memory. The thing that keeps going through his mind is _it’s real_. All of this. Everything you told him, it’s real. Of course, he believed you before. He wouldn’t be sitting in this house, eating cereal from the box and holding a— no, _his_ — marriage certificate if he didn’t. But to have a memory that lines up with what you told him about your wedding day at the hospital makes a world of difference going forward. He has to reiterate to himself— almost as if he’s already having this conversation with you— that he believed you before. He believed the pictures on his phone, and he believed his disapproving mum. But there have been numerous times that he had to wonder if this was somehow an elaborate ruse. He berated himself straight away for having the thought at all because you’ve been nothing but good to him. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t trust you, either. But the fact remains that learning that he can’t trust his own mind is a difficult and lonely road. Much less at the age of— _fuck_. How old is he? You said you’ve known him for three years, last he remembers he was 22 so he’s got to be at least 25 by now. _Fuck._ He feels like an idiot having to google what year it is to do the math. Someone told him at the hospital but he was getting so much information at the time; he has to double-check.

—0—

You pull into the drive after a long day training and you can’t wait to get in and relax. Though, you seem to be able to do less and less of that with Eggsy in his current state. Your fretting over him is constant in your head, trying to make sure he’s comfortable. You’d do anything for him and you’ll continue to do this, but _fuck_ you’re tired. Still, you’d rather have Eggsy here with you like this than not at all. But your day isn’t over. You’re debating when to tell him he worked for an international spy organization. Your gut says _now_ , but you’re fucking tired.

When you open the door, he turns from where he’s sitting on the sofa and smiles at you. “Hey, how was work?” He turns the volume on the TV down.

“Exhausting. How was it here?”

“It was good. Um, I remembered somethin’.”

That sentence wiped away every ounce of lethargy from your body. “You did?” You try to keep your excitement in check as you make your way to sit next to him on the sofa. “What was it, how do you feel?”

“Um, relieved, now. At first, I had to have sat here stunned for a good couple of minutes after I remembered.”

“Well, I’m on the edge of my seat.”

“It was the Marriage license. I remembered that first night when I filled my half out and stopped you from finishing yours.”

“Oh. Yeah, that was a night. Sorry your first memory of us had to be about how much I didn’t want to get married.”

He shakes his head. “No, it was good. Now I know that we didn’t rush into this. More importantly, I remember everything I felt that night. I remember lookin’ at you and feelin’ so horrible that I didn’t notice sooner. I remember _knowing_ you. I knew how stubborn you were and watchin’ you start to fill out the license, I knew you weren’t doin’ it for you. I don’t— I don’t know how much of that I’ve told you, but I remember loving you and I want that back.”

“Well, shit.” You say through barely contained tears.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I keep doin’ this to you, don’t I?” He holds his arms out. You’re still hesitant to come forward. “Look, I’d like to think that we’re _at least_ friends by now, yeah?”

“Eggsy, we’re exactly where you want us to be.” You wipe your eyes. You’ve been a lot more than my friend for a long time now.”

He sighs. “Alright, well, we should start dating. Like when you have a blind date and it turns out surprisingly well. I don’t know you very well, but I’d like to. Not only because we’re married, but because we have a connection and I can feel it. We can do date nights an’ all.”

“But we also live together.” You point out.

He shrugs. “So, our third date will feel more like our fifth… or tenth. Fuck, I don’t know how logistics are going to work either. This is a weird situation either way. But does that sound good? You don’t have to worry that I’m— I don’t know, bein’ too nice or whatever when I offer to hug you.”

“Yeah, alright. I suppose this is the best-case scenario given the situation.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I was thinkin’ that tonight could be our new first date if you’re up for it.”

You look him over, still in the sweats you left him in this morning. “You sure dressed for the occasion, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Well, I knew you were a sure thing.” He winks.

You can’t help but laugh at him. “You’re ridiculous. Do you treat all your dates like this?”

“Only the ones who’re sure things.”

You hum in mock disapproval. “Yeah, alright. So, I’m going to be honest, I’m knackered, going out is going to have to wait for another night.”

“That’s fine. I was thinkin’ we could order takeout, you could get ready for bed, and we could watch our wedding video together.”

“That sounds like a lot for a first date, are you sure you’re up to it? I can’t imagine what it was like for you earlier when you had that memory.”

“I’m up for it. More than I would’ve been had that not happened.”

You nod. “That’s great, I’m really happy to hear that.” You pause, trying to figure out how to start the conversation you need to. “Eggsy, before we do anything else, I need to tell you what we actually do for a living. It’s going to sound mental, but I need you to hear me out.”

“We ain’t tailors?”

“No.”

“You an’ Jamal lied to me? Right now, while I’m throwing myself into a foreign house with a stranger so I can regain my memories? You’re keepin’ shit from me that could ‘elp with that?”

“I’m not keeping anything from you. That’s why I’m telling you now. There were some formalities we had to go through, checking in to make sure the agency approved—”

“Makin’ sure they _approved_? Like my employer has any sort of decision over how my life ends up— like _you_ do? And here you are actin’ like you care if I get my memories back? How could y—”

“Eggsy, don’t you fucking dare.”

He’s taken aback by your tone. It’s the first time since he woke up that you’ve put your foot down about anything. He might’ve even made the mistake of thinking he married a meek woman.

“I was going to tell you either way but it’s better for everyone that I act like I’m following the rules. We’re secret agents, spies. Every suit in our closet is bulletproof. Kingsman is a front for that agency. There’s a whole lot more at stake here than you or me but I was willing to put all that on the line for you anyway. You can be mad at me and say whatever you want after I finish, but as I said: I need you to hear me out, okay?”

He crosses his arms and leans back on the armrest, facing you. “Okay, I’m listening.”

You let out a breath. “Fuck. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I know that how you handle this and what you do going forward is your choice completely and you should be able to do so with all the facts available. And I do want you to get your memories back, _so badly_. I’m sorry that wasn’t clear.”

He lets out a breath. “I’m sorry too. It’s not an excuse, but hearin’ that you were keepin’ somethin’ that important from me, I was mad. You deserve the benefit of the doubt, though.”

“Well, I couldn’t tell you at the hospital. Too many ears there. Then we were here, and I was showing you where everything was. We were both tired, and I’d have the chance to talk it over with Ar—the head of our organization today. His code name is Arthur, but Harry has that position.”

Eggsy raises a brow. “Why Arthur?” He pauses, grins. “Do you ‘ave a code name?” His face brightens. “Does Jamal?”

“I am agent Kay, Jamal is Agent Percival, Roxy— who you don’t remember but were very close with— is Lancelot—”

Eggsy looks positively overjoyed at the news. “Lancelot— _Percival_? What the fuck is he, a knight of the round table?”

“And you were Galahad the pure.”

He studies you for a moment. “Nah, pull the other one, love.”

“Sorry, it’s true. I don’t make the rules.”

He squints at you. “Alright. You wanna tell me how the head of some posh secret agency picks up a chav like me?”

“ _Eggsy_.”

“What?”

You let his comment go unaddressed for now. “He wasn’t Arthur when he found you. At the time, he was Galahad and you were about to serve some jail time.”

“Fuck. I thought I stopped all that shit, runnin’ for Dean.”

“You did, but you were still a thief and a brazen one at that. You stole Rottie’s car, did a few donuts in his face, and drove away.”

“They called the fuckin’ cops on me?”

“No, from what I’m told, the cops found you speeding in a bright yellow sports car, chased you while you drove backward through traffic and mocked them— I support the sentiment, but probably a stupid move— before crashing when you swerved so as not to hit a fox. Brandon and Jamal were with you and you told them to book it before you decided to top it all off by driving nose-first into the cop car.”

“I bet that felt fuckin’ great before I got arrested.”

“You always told the story with a shit-eating grin.”

“That still don’t explain much, though.”

“Yeah, um, Harry would really be a better fit to tell you all this, but I guess you called the number on the back of that medal” you point to his chest. The medal isn’t showing, but you know it’s resting against his skin under his shirt. “They hung up on you, the cops released you, and Harry was waiting for you outside. Your dad saved his life and the lives of two other agents. When Harry found you, he saw your potential. You cleared a series of tests, failed the last one, and were sent home. You and Harry had a row right before he left for a mission where he was presumed dead. Long story short, you saved the world and took his place as Galahad.”

“ _Fuck_. And I thought a Marriage was a lot of history to navigate.”

You shrug. “That’s the important bits. Part of the reason I wanted to talk to Harry before I told you all this was to sort out the details so I could come to you with the full picture. If you want to go back— and I’d strongly recommend it— you’ll be checked by a Kingsman medic and cleared for physical duty. You’ll be put through a series of rigorous tests, and should you pass, you can start working again.”

He stares at you for a long minute. “So, we were like a badass spy couple?”

“Yeah. When one of us wasn’t bleeding, it was as great as it sounds.”

“That sounds pretty great.” He pauses. “Look, I’m sorry I got mad. You’ve been so patient and thoughtful this whole time. It was out of line to say that you don’t care.”

“It’s okay. Neither of us can imagine what the other is going through. We’re both doing our best.”

He nods. “Thanks.”

“Do you have any questions?”

“A ton, but I need some time with the information you gave me.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. You know I’m here if you ever want to talk about anything.”

“Thanks.”

“And Eggsy, I know it’s a bit late, but you can’t tell anyone about this. Your mum, Brandon, anyone.”

“I understand. I won’t, I swear.”

“Good. I didn’t want to have to amnesia dart you.”

He looks at you suspiciously for a moment. “You have those?”

“Yes, and I was ordered to use it if you didn’t want to keep your mouth shut.” You take your glasses off and make sure they’re not recording.

“I wouldn’t have done that, though.”

“I’m not gonna, you don’t gotta worry about me, but what would happen if I did say somethin’?”

“In training, they give you a body bag and have you write your name and the name of your next of kin on the bag. If you say anything they tell you they’ll hunt you both down and put you in the bag.”

“And will they?”

“Maybe at one point in time but not anymore. They still say it to scare new recruits, though. In reality, Merlin is—”

“Merlin? Like the fucking wizard?”

“Once you see what he can do with tech, you won’t feel strange calling him that at all. Besides, few people know his real name at all.”

“Do you know it?”

“It’s Hamish but I will amnesia dart your ass if you even think about giving me up.”

“You know, after we watch our weddin’ video, you have to show me your gadgets.”

“Is that what the kids were calling them four, five years ago?”

He grins. “Come off it, you know what I was sayin’.”

“I do and I will. Now, let’s order our food and get things rolling. I do have to sleep at some point tonight.”


	4. Chapter 4

You barely get your tie off before you notice Eggsy lean on the door frame, poking his head in the bedroom. It’s still alternating between the two of you every other night. “Hey, can we talk?”

You pop the first few buttons of your shirt and take your glasses off. “Yeah, of course. You wanna head to the sofa?” You nod your chin toward the sitting room.

He shrugs and turns to head in and sit. As you sit next to him, you notice him watching you in this way that he never did before the accident. It’s a tentative thing, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to be looking. You’d never say as much, but you hate it. Tentative has never described Eggsy as long as you’ve known him and it breaks your heart that more often than not nowadays, he has that look on his face. “What is it, Eggs?”

“I haven’t remembered anythin’.”

"I didn't think you had. I figured you'd tell me if you did."

“I know, but besides that day with the marriage certificate, I haven't remembered anythin' else. I don’t mean to downplay that moment; it was amazin’ that I did remember it. It gave me hope I didn't have before and that was enough to tide me over for a while. But I want to be ‘onest with you. I’m _tired_. I’m tired of tryin’ and tryin’ to reach for somethin’ that ain’t there.”

You swallow and ignore the way your eyes start to sting. You hope he doesn’t notice or expect you to respond yet because you don’t trust your voice.

“My life sounded great, so I still want that back, but it’s time I start rebuilding it, instead of hoping it’ll come back for me. It’s becomin’ a burden, instead of a hope, expectin’ myself to go back to that life the same man I was. I ain’t him anymore. Maybe I will be again one day, but not anytime soon. Right now, I feel like I’m bein’ tugged backward an’ into the future all at once. I need to be able to move forward from where I am right now. As far as I’m concerned, all those memories are lost. It’s shit and I still wish like fuck that weren’t the case, but healing, for me now, means accepting that.”

“That’s a lot.” You manage to keep your voice steady. “This whole situation is. But what you’re saying makes sense. You’re the only one who can gauge what you need. I appreciate you telling me how you’re feeling and what you need. As long as you’ll let me, I’ll be by your side, handing you the materials you need to build your life the way you want it.”

“Thank you.”

“So um, I’m sorry if this is selfish for me to ask right now, but what about us? Are we— do I get another shot at getting you to fall in love with me?” You hope that the words don’t come out as the desperate plea that they feel like.

Eggsy doesn’t know how to respond to that. “I— do you— sorry, ain’t that what you’ve been doing this whole time?”

“No. I’m not sure where in this whole ordeal you saw me trying to _woo_ you. Sure, I hoped you’d remember me and our life together. I _hoped_ you’d at least understand how we could be married. But I haven’t been trying to win you over.”

“But you’ve been so amazing this whole time.”

“I— thanks. I’m glad you think so.”

“I know it. You’ve put your own pain aside at every turn, giving me all the space I need, never trying to shoulder your way back into my life.” He lets out a breath. “I don’t know that I would have the strength to do that if the roles were reversed.”

You look up at him. “I know you would.”

“See, that right there, that belief in me, the conviction behind your words. You’ve been so good to me.”

“Eggs, it’s well-founded belief. When I told you about the doy of our wedding, that one memory you had, it showed that you’ve already done all this for me. You don’t remember it, but you already gave me space when I needed it because you loved me enough to let me deal with things how and when I needed to. It seems like this situation is something that would happen once, in few people’s lifetimes. But at the core, it’s not. Thinking back, you were probably in as much pain as I’m in now. Because at least I know that our relationship is unstable because I’m a virtual stranger to you. That makes sense. For you, we’d been in a loving relationship for years already when I couldn’t even sign some papers or walk down an aisle without having a mental breakdown.”

“That made sense too. You explained it to me at the hospital when you told me about our wedding and I _remember_ understanding it when you told me about it the first time we tried to fill out our marriage papers. You were in no more control of the things that shaped you growing up than I am of my memories now.”

“I lov—” you stop yourself. “I’m sorry. I um, thanks, for saying that.”

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s been pretty clear from the start that you love me. At first, that meant not sayin’ it for a while, but you kept showin’ me. And I understand now. I’m not going to lie, at first, I was ‘ere to get my memories back so I could put this whole nightmare behind all of us.” He pauses. “Sometimes, I’d even wonder if I actually felt that spark between us or if I wanted things to be okay so bad that I forced feelings that I thought I should have.” He sees your face fall at that and he kicks himself for not getting to the point sooner. “Hey, I’m not done.” He soothes, bringing his hand up to cup your face. “I told you that I understand now.”

“Do you mind helping me out? Because I have no idea what you mean by that.”

“I understand why we’re together. I realized that this has to be real because how I’ve grown to feel about you— you can’t force that with wishful thinking. And the fact that you’re just now asking if we can give it a real shot, like you ‘aven’t been trying this whole time?”

You shrug. “I did those things because I love you, not to make you love me.”

“Well, tough shit because I fell in love with you anyway. And it’s not—” He stops when you slam into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his neck. It’s the first time you’ve initiated instead of letting him come to you and if he’s honest, it’s a bit of a relief. It takes him a few moments to react, but soon he rests his hands on you, running them along your back. At first, he wants to wait this out, then continue the conversation when he can look you in the eyes. But it soon becomes apparent that you’re not going to be the first to let go and he finds that he doesn’t want to be either. So, he moves so you’re both more comfortable and holds you tighter. “I want you to know that I didn’t fall for you _because_ you’ve been so good to me through all this. I love _you_ not just how you make me feel.”

“Eggs, you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cry.” Your voice is muffled where you pressed your face against his skin.

“That’s okay.” He turns and places a kiss behind your ear as he feels your breath against his neck.

You sit back. “It must be strange for you, telling me you love me for the first time, only to have me respond like this.”

He shrugs. “It might be a bit much if it were a normal situation, but we both know this isn’t. These last few months, as I’ve fallen in love with you and continued to gain respect for you, I’ve known in my head that you had a whole life with me. To have the breaks thrown on while you’re in a loving marriage, I’ve honestly been surprised that you’ve only cried or almost cried a couple of times. It is what it is. I’ve accepted that you’re always going to be feeling these things differently— _deeper_ than I am.”

“That’s a bit sad.”

“It would be sadder if I never gave you a chance and we couldn’t even have this.”

“Yeah, I’m really glad that didn’t happen.”

“Me too. Now, can I get a kiss?” He raises a brow with a little grin.

“Oh, say the word and you can have a lot more than a kiss.”

He leans in and finally _, finally_ presses his lips to yours. You grip his neck with one hand and rest your other hand on his chest. Your gorgeous husband who you love is _finally_ kissing you after months of apologizing when you brush against him as you walk past each other. His lips are back on yours and you know it doesn’t mean everything is okay and you’ll be together forever, but it’s a huge step in that direction and he knows it. That’s why it took so long for the two of you to get here even after weeks of dating again. These are less clear thoughts in your head and more fuzzy intuitions that you know to be true. Because the last thing you’re doing now that he’s finally kissing you again is having a coherent train of thought. No, all you can do right now is _feel_. His lips pressed to yours as you’re finally allowed to be intimate with him again. The kiss is different than you're used to; another reminder that this isn't the Eggsy you married. But you don't care. He's the same in all the ways that matter and you'll happily take any version of him. He's the first to pull back and as he does, his eyes flutter open, searching your face.

"So, what's the word?"

"Hmmm?" You mumble, still lost after kissing your husband for the first time in months.

"You said that I could have a lot more than a kiss, all I had to do was say the word. Because I want so much with you, love."

You lean in and kiss him again. “Right now?”

“If you’re up for it.”

“Come on, then.” You take his hand and lead him to the bedroom.

—0—

“I can see why I married you.” Eggsy says as he falls into bed next to you after a shower.

“Because I’m so great in bed?”

“Yeah, gotta lock that down.”

You snort. “Yeah, alright.”

“Hey.” He murmurs, a light smile playing on his face, but overall, more serious. “I mean it, though, that was great.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t start crying or something. I had no idea how I was going to respond, having sex with you again after everything.”

He shrugs. “If that happened, I would’ve checked in and we would’ve figured it out.” He lays on his side, looking you over for a minute. “This has been a long road for us, but I don’t want our relationship to be this fragile thing. I know half the time, you’re still walking on eggshells around me, not wanting to mess this up, but that ain’t healthy. It gettin’ to the point where it don’t matter why you’re doin’ it. This is the second time I’ve fallen in love with you now. I want to be in a relationship with you and I want us to be as happy as we were before. That means that I need to know that you’re comfortable with me and you’re getting what you need out of this too. I understand that this is a weird transition, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me _so much_. The way you’ve handled everythin’ has been amazin’. But part of accepting that I’m not getting my memories back means that you have to stop treating me like I’m your patient.”

You let out a breath. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Is there anything you can think of now that you want from me or that would make you more comfortable?”

“It’s hard, Eggs. Until today, I had no idea where we stood. Yes, we’ve been dating or whatever.” You have to refrain from putting air quotes around the word ‘dating’ because he made it clear that that’s what he needed for a fresh start and you don’t want to belittle it. “But I’m taking all my cues from you. Tonight we went from giving up on getting your memories back, to you telling me you love me, to our new first kiss, to sleeping together really fast. Those are all things I’ve needed this whole time but it wouldn’t be fair or right for me to ask that of you before you’re ready.”

“Well, I’m ready now, love. I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a while. I didn’t want to say anythin’ until I was sure because I didn’t want to risk breakin’ your heart.” He lets out a breath. “Not like that. My point is that this ain’t new or impulsive for me. You don’t ‘ave to feel like your takin’ advantage or whatever.”

“Okay. I’ll have to get used to that, let myself think of you like this again, but for now, I want you in whatever way I can get you.”

“Well, you can _get_ me however you want, but you gotta tell me how that is.”

You look at him for a minute. You have to try to remember what it was like when you first started dating years ago. What would you have felt comfortable asking of him then? Because that’s the closest situation you can compare this to. You picture what it was like when you first fell into bed together after you confessed that you’ve liked him as more than a friend and colleague and he agreed. There were actually a lot of similarities— which shouldn’t be that surprising. You remember how easy it was to pull him close and fall asleep in each other’s arms. As you look at him laying on his side next to you with his open stare, waiting for you to make a move, you realize it can be that easy now.

“Can we just lay together?”

“Seems like the next logical step to me. Come on.” He beckons you closer by tipping his head to the side. You scoot over until you're pressed against him and he lets his arm rest over your waist. “See, everythin’s okay.”

You let out a breath against his chest. “Yeah, I think it’s heading in that direction.”

—0—

Weeks pass and where Eggsy was starting to feel at home in this place, he’s now starting to feel at home with you. Since you blew through those milestones that night— an _I love you_ , a kiss, making love— you’ve been a different person. That could have to do with the talk he had with you about moving forward without his old life looming over him, but whatever the reason, for the first time, he feels like he’s getting to know you. Not the facade you put on to make him comfortable, but the real you and it’s only making him fall harder for you.

Before, he was visiting his mum and sister a lot. And that was a strange one. They’re his family, yes, but seeing his baby sister as a kid, running to him with outstretched arms, he had to fight back tears. It was sad seeing how much he missed with her growing up, but he was overjoyed listening to her babble about her favorite cartoons and watching her play. Not to mention seeing how much she loves him, knowing she’s _safe_ and loved here— in his wildest dreams back at the estates, this is what he pictured.

At first, going to his mum and sister’s was a relief. He didn’t have to feel guilty around them because he knows and loves them. But now, he loves you too. Not to the extent that he used to, but he _understands_ now. He’s not going through the motions anymore, he’s here because he wants to be. Sure, any other time, he wouldn’t be living with you at this point in your relationship, but he’s here now and he can’t bring himself to be upset about it. He knows he can go to his mum’s if worst comes to worst, but he doesn’t expect it to. The more he sees of you, the more he loves you.

The thing that keeps nagging at him is that you’re a spy. It doesn't put him off, exactly. In fact, it's kind of hot knowing how badass you are. But that's the thing, he _knows_ you're a spy; he can't picture it. When you’re lying in his arms at night, or humming while you make dinner, or worrying over him, he can’t imagine you being a cold secret agent. But then you come home every night in your bulletproof suit and take a minute in your office to catalog all your weapons. You don’t close the door anymore and some nights he can’t help staring. It’s flooring that _he_ has a parallel set up across the hall from you, all those things waiting in a hidden compartment in the wall _for him_. He can’t imagine seeing you in action and your skill and grace not immobilizing him on the spot. Much less working with you to dismantle illegal weapons rings, or taking down billionaires bent on world domination. He told you that he couldn’t spend his life reaching for memories he’d never have, but times like these make him _yearn_ for that knowledge, to remember that profound and specific awe and respect that had to come with having seen you in action.

—0—

Once again, you had to leave Eggsy behind and head to work. In the past, this person or that group has taken you hoping to further their nefarious purposes. You’ve been in many scraps ending in severe injury— and at times, when you left the house, you knew that’s what you were heading into. In fact, when you work in espionage, _every_ time you leave the house you have to be prepared for that. But it’s never been as hard to leave as it’s been since Eggsy got home from the hospital. You feel bad leaving him alone all day, especially since he’s started opening up to you again. But he can go to his mum and sister’s anytime, and you know he can entertain himself. Still, _you’d_ rather be spending the day with him.

“Agent Kay.” Merlin greets when you get to base.

“Merlin. What’s our day looking like?”

“It appears Dean Baker has escaped from prison.” He gets right to the point.

“Fuck. Do we know where he is?”

“No. I’ve already sent Jamal to stay with Michelle and Daisy until the situation is resolved. I’m sending you home to look after Eggsy.”

“He shouldn’t know where we live.”

“I know. It’s a precaution. It’s also so you can be the one to tell Eggsy and make sure he doesn’t go out and do anything stupid.”

“Alright, um, you couldn’t have called?”

“I was seeing if I could locate him and we could avoid all this.”

“Okay, let me know if anything changes.”

“Of course.”

—0—

Eggsy got up that morning to have breakfast with you. Soon, he’ll be training back at Kingsman again and he’ll need to be on a similar schedule anyway. Since you told him about your real job, he’s been reviewing case files and footage of his old missions and _fuck_ was he a badass. He wishes muscle memory was worth shit, but it doesn’t appear to be. Anyway, from what he understands, he was also a gym rat on his off time and he hasn’t been doing anything since he woke up from the coma almost four months ago now. In passing, he thinks about the jacked version of himself you’re used to and tries not to get self-conscious about the softer bits he didn’t have before. He needs to start doing parkour again, at least.

A knock at the door jars him from his thoughts. He jumps before he rolls his eyes at himself and gets up to answer it. When he opens the door, the last person in the world he expected to see at his home is standing before him.

“Surprised to see me ‘ere, Muggsy?”

Eggsy refuses to show how shaken he is. “Dean, what the fuck are you doin’ ‘ere?”

“Came by to pay you back for last time. It was a fluke you ever got the jump on us, but now I'm back. After I take care‘a you, I'm goin’ to your mum’s to get my daughter.”

“Dean, I swear to God, if you touch either of them, I’ll fucking kill you this time. How the fuck did you even know where I was?”

“Even I got friends. You gotta remember that. I hear you’re a right gentleman an’ all now." Dean gives Eggsy a once-over as he says it. "Ain’t you going to invite me in?”

“Fuck no.”

“What, so you’re goin’ ta call the filth on me, is that it?”

“You know what, that’s a great id—” Before Eggsy can finish, Dean’s barreling into him and three of his goons get out of the car that’s parked in the driveway. Eggsy barely has time to sit up and scramble back before two of Dean’s men are hauling him up by his arms and pinning him to the wall. As Dean comes closer, the third man stays at the door.

“Got me a new crew in prison. These ain’t Rottie’s stupid friends, they’re bad men, who ain’t afraid'a you.”

“So what is it, are you their leader or somethin’?” Eggsy laughs and Dean slaps him across the face.

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

“Alright, I just find it a bit hard to believe that if they’re who you say they are, they’d follow a coward like you. I did a number on ya last time, yeah?” This time Dean’s fist connects with the side of Eggsy’s head.

—0—

When you pull into the driveway, you see an unfamiliar car in the driveway.

“Merlin, can you run these plates?”

“Already on it.” He pauses. “I sent over the information. Do you know the man it’s registered to?”

“No. Do you think it’s Dean and his gang? How would they have found us?”

“I don’t know. Someone could’ve followed you. For the first time since you've been together, you two have had a routine since Eggsy got out of the hospital. I’ve noticed you’ve been distracted.”

“Fuck.” You sprint the rest of the way, seeing if you can see in. There’s no way to tell what’s going on in there, so you decide to go around back. For a moment you think about how silly you’ll look if Eggsy decided to invite an old friend over, but the likelihood of that is low, and looking paranoid is better than losing a fight because you didn’t have every advantage you could’ve. So you climb in Eggsy’s office window. The second it opened, you could hear yelling from around the corner.

“Tell me where they are!” It’s Dean’s voice.

“I already told you: you ain’t goin’ anywhere near them.” You hear Eggsy say, followed by a slap and some shuffling. “Get the fuck off me or use that thing already.”

You slink around the corner, seeing a man holding Eggsy’s arms behind his back while Dean holds a knife to his throat. There’s a third man by the door. You point the side of your watch at the man behind Eggsy, shooting the dart into his neck before doing the same to the man at the door. As the two men fall to the ground, Dean scrambles back from Eggsy, looking around wildly. That's when you come around the corner.

“I’m over here.”

Dean plays right into your hands as he charges at you. Once he’s close enough, you kick his legs out from under him and grab the back of his neck, slamming his head onto the floor. It doesn’t knock him out but you weren’t aiming for that. You take out your gun and put it to the back of his head. “You’re going to stay exactly where I put you, and you’re going to listen to me, do you understand?”

Dean only spits blood onto the floor.

“I suppose that’s the best response I could expect from you. Now, when I saw you threatening Eggsy like that I wanted to kill you. I’ve killed before, and I’ll do it again. It’s no hardship for me. But I spared you because I saw that pain and fear in my husband’s eyes, and I needed you to know what that feels like. If this isn’t doing it, I have plenty of ideas. You’ll suffer for a long time after this; I’ll make sure of it. But I need you to know that if you ever find a way out of the pit I will personally dig for you, this shit that you’re pulling now, is not an option. After this, Eggsy and I will go on to live our lives and we won’t lose sleep over the likes of you. Michelle and Daisy will never know this happened. So I’m giving you one chance and this is it. If you ever find a way to break out of prison again, you’re going to spend the rest of your days hiding and looking over your shoulder because if we ever meet again, I’ll fucking kill you. Do you understand?”

Dean spits again. “Fucking bitch.”

“Alright. I’m going to trust that I’ve made my point clear. Eggsy, anything to add?”

He stares at you with stars in his eyes, still catching his breath as he leans against the wall with his mouth gaping as he shakes his head.

“See, you’re not even worth it to him, already.” You reach into your jacket, pulling out a syringe, stabbing it into his neck, and unloading the vial into his bloodstream. He goes limp on the ground and you rush over to Eggsy.

It’s clear that he’s in awe of what he witnessed, but you also note that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of Dean.

“Eggsy, love, are you okay?” You put a gentle hand under his chin, cataloging his injuries. The first thing you notice is his split lip, followed by a bruise that's darkening around his eye by the minute. His cheek is red and blotchy from where Dean struck him and he has shallow cuts along his neck. “It’s okay, that tranquilizer will keep him down hours after the cleanup team has them out of here.” You watch as he takes another few seconds to stare down Dean’s body before he looks at you. “Alright, Eggsy, how do you feel?”

“I’m glad it ‘appened to me an’ not my mum. He would’ve killed ‘er an’ taken Daisy.”

“He wouldn’t have because Jamal is with them right now, keeping them safe. The second Kingsman heard, they made sure you and your family were safe.”

“Still.”

You run your hand through his hair and kiss his forehead. “Well, I’m glad you’re safe.” You stand and offer your hands to help him up. “Come on, let’s get you an ice pack for that eye.”

He looks you over for a minute before he takes your hands and lets you haul him up. But before you can head to the kitchen, he pulls you close and leans in to kiss you. It’s all very emotional, the way he moves his hands to your waist and gathers you close, how he surges in, pressing his lips to yours and drawing it out. “I love you.” He murmurs as he pulls back.

“I love you too, Eggsy. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here before he got his hands on you.”

He shakes his head. “You did what you could.” He pauses. “And, the more I come back to myself, the hotter I realize it was, watchin’ you lay ‘im out like that.”

“It wasn’t unsettling?” You ask as you head to the freezer to search out your ice packs. Eggsy has a tendency to deflect, even when you were closer than you are now.

“Was it unsettling for me watching you fight before?” He raises a brow, following you into the kitchen.

“No, it’s not the first time you’ve mentioned that. Some of our best sex has been post-mission.” You nod toward a chair and wait for him to sit before you come over with the ice pack. “But this wasn’t a mission. It was your abusive stepdad back to beat on you again.”

“And you saved me. If I’m honest, it’s more of a relief than anythin’ else now it’s over. Since you told me that we were both spies, I’ve had a hard time believing it. I didn’t think you _lied_ but you’ve been nothing but sweet and loving to me. Through this whole process, you’ve even seemed meek at times. Then I see you come home and put your weapons away while you’re still wearing your bulletproof suit. I’ve had a hard time drawing those two people together. But seeing you like that today, it was a different side of you that I’ve been searching for.”

“Eggsy, if I would’ve known, I would’ve sat down with you and showed you some footage of me on missions.”

“Before that lot interrupted, I was watchin’ us on a mission together. It ain’t the same as seein’ it in front’a me. You’re amazin’.”

You look him over. “And you’re okay after all that?”

He shrugs. “It ain't anythin’ new.” He clears his throat. “Before you got ‘ere, while Dean was on me, I uh, I had a memory. Dean had me shoved up against the fridge back ‘ome, a knife to my throat. He was yellin’ at me to give him the name of the geezer I was with. Not sure what it meant, but then a man’s voice filled the room, informin' Dean that he had dirt on ‘im or something. I don’t know. I just remember Dean lettin’ me go an’ I ran.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh, hearing it out loud. "I know that don't make sense. Could'a been a dream."

“No, it does. That sounds like what happened after you met with Harry for the first time. You were running to the tailor shop. That’s when Harry gave you a hurried explanation of what we do and took you to your training.”

“So, he swept me off my feet, huh?”

You let out a laugh. “A bit, yeah.”

He nods; presses his lips together for a moment, deciding if he's ready for what he's about to say. “I think I’m ready to go back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll talk to Arthur about it tomorrow and we can figure out a day to get you started.”

“That sounds good.”

—0—

It’s days later when he wakes up in the middle of the night. Not for any reason other than that he has to piss, so he gets up and takes care of his business. As he walks back to bed, his eyes adjusting to the low light, he muses on how happy he is that he’s back here with you. He’s careful not to wake you as he climbs back into bed, and as he settles in, he’s hit with _how much_ he loves you. He’s seen you lie exactly like this hundreds of times but he has to appreciate the moment anyway. With the lives you lead, he doesn't always get time to— and that’s when it hits him.

It’s ridiculous how anticlimactic it is, how he didn’t even _notice_ at first. He remembers. He remembers everything. There was no flash of his whole life before his eyes like he’s seen in movies. He just… woke up. Literally and metaphorically. He can think back to your wedding day, details you haven’t got around to telling him, and insignificant things that stuck in his brain. He remembers Harry, Roxy, and Merlin. He remembers how he thought he lost each of them at different times, only to find that some miracle had saved them. He’s so excited, he doesn’t even feel bad nudging you awake.

“Babes, babes, wake up.”

You mumble out a series of groans as you wake up. “What is it, Eggs?”

“I remember.”

You’re still groggy but much more awake now. “That’s great. What was it?” You ask, still blinking sleep from your eyes.

“Everythin’, love. I remember everythin’.”

It's amazing how five words can expel all drowsiness from your body so fast, how they can lift your heart into your throat, and have you sitting to attention. “What? How? What reminded you?”

“I've got no idea. I got up to go to the toilet, and on my way back, I saw you sleepin’ there and I just _felt_ so much. I’ve grown to love you again anyway, but _fuck_ I had no idea what that meant when I said it before bed tonight. For a minute, I didn’t even realize, then, it hit me. It was like these past— what, four months? never 'appened. I remember everythin’. Fuck, Harry, Merlin, Rox. I 'aven't seen 'em in so long.”

For months you've been convincing yourself— and Eggsy's been proving— that while he shares the face of your husband, this isn't who you married. That to him, you're not married and you can by no means treat him the same as before. It was like the man you love died and came back as a version of himself who had never met you. By now, you've given up on getting your husband back. It'll be years before you get to be with him like that again and even then it might not be the same. But now, here he is, sitting next to you, muttering the names of the friends he's forgotten and telling you he loves you. _He loves you_. Yes, he's made that confession before now, and of course, you believed him, but it was new; young love. Now, he's telling you that he loves you and you know it's in a way that only having a shared history and deep knowledge of one another can bring.

You reach for him, not sure what to do now that you have him like this again. You're in a daze from the information, and he's working his way out of his own.

Your hand makes contact with his shoulder and Eggsy looks over at you. It's clear that you're processing the information. Your eyes are darting around his face, not focusing on any one thing, and your lips are parted as your hand grips his bicep now.

He puts his hand on your thigh. "Talk to me, love. I'm 'ere."

The way he looks at you, so open and concerned, the way he seeks you out, his touch grounding in a way that he knows helps you, it squashes any lingering disbelief you had. The breath you let out is one of shock. "You remember." You cover your mouth with your free hand as tears come to your eyes. "You're—"

"Hey, come 'ere." He opens his arms to you and lets out a little huff as you collide with his chest. He can't bring himself to be upset about it. All he can think about is how happy he is that he can be here for you like this after you spent months leading him through a sea of uncertainty. “I can’t believe it, it’s so scary thinkin’ that I almost lost all this." He squeezes you tighter as tears come to his own eyes. "If you hadn’t been there to coax me along, I would’ve gone to live with my mum an’ sister, never giving any of this a chance.”

"I never would've let you go that easy." You sniff.

"Thank God for that."

As you sit there, you take turns gathering the other closer. You have no idea how much time passes, the two of you sitting and crying in each other’s arms. Eggsy's the one who breaks the silence.

“Shit, where’s my wedding ring?”

That almost makes you start crying anew but you pull yourself together and lean back to open the drawer of your bedside table. There it is, sitting in the box he gave you your own ring in. As you turn to face him, ring box in hand, he’s already reaching for it. “Hang on a second.” You clutch the box closer to your body. He seems confused, but sits back and watches you. “For a few months there, I was scared that we’d never get back what we lost. I had to realize that I was lucky I had you back at all and that I would happily live out my days with any version of you. I was grateful you were willing to work toward that with me. But Eggs, I missed you so much. _This_ you. The one who made me _want_ to marry him, even with all my hang-ups. So, now that you’re back, Eggsy, will you be my husband, again?” You open the ring box to reveal his wedding ring as it’s been for months, safely waiting for him.

He leans in and presses his lips to yours. Of course, there’s passion there, it’s the first time he’s kissing you as his wife again and he's not about to disappoint. As he pulls back and looks up at you, your noses are almost touching. He can't help diving in for one more quick kiss. “Of course I’ll still be your husband. You wanna put my ring on me?”

You don’t answer— you don’t think you _can_ past the lump that’s back in your throat. Instead, you take his hand in yours and slip the ring back on his finger. You take a minute to appreciate the band wrapping around his ring finger again.

Eggsy watches you stare at his hand for a moment before he takes your hands in his and looks down at them. He noticed when you got home from the hospital all those months ago that you moved your ring to your right hand and it has stayed that way until now. "You know, this is on the wrong hand." He taps your wedding ring as he looks up at you.

"I— with everything the way it was, I knew we weren't married in your head. I didn't want to rub our marriage in your face any more than I already was just by being around you. I thought about taking it off and putting it away with yours but I couldn't."

He nods. "I noticed right away but I wasn't ready to address it. I know it couldn't have brought you comfort, but I'm glad it gave you something to hold onto. A reminder of what we had in store again in the future."

"Hope." You murmur.

That about breaks his heart. As if everything during the last four months hasn't been heartbreaking and tragic. "Fuck, I love you so fucking much." He takes your ring and moves it to its proper place on your left hand. The second it’s in place, he leans in to kiss you again, bringing both hands to cup your face. You move to sit on his lap, pressing your body closer to his. Minutes must pass— not that you’re thinking about them— as you sit there, refamiliarizing yourselves with this intimacy. Not the physical aspect, since you’ve been back at that for a little while now. No, it’s this closeness paired with knowing each other so well. Sure, having this again in any form has been nice, but as bad as it sounds, it’s seemed like some parody of what it should be. Now, having Eggsy back to himself, knowing how well he knows you and how much he loves you paired with this kiss, it’s… everything it should be.

Eggsy’s the one to break the kiss. As he pulls back, he moves his hands to rest on your hips and murmurs your name. “I’m so sorry for everything I put you through.” He lets out a breath as he rests his forehead on yours.

“Eggsy, it’s not your fault.”

He shrugs. “I ‘ad it right when I argued that I was stupid for not wearin’ my seatbelt. Even if the rest wasn’t my fault, I’m still sorry. Fuck, I made you question whether I loved you.”

“You didn’t love me. And if you try to tell me that you _did_ I’ll call bullshit. You didn’t even know me. And yeah, it was shit, but it was the unfortunate truth. There was nothing to be done except convince you to give me a shot. It’s not like you said you didn’t love me because we were fighting or something. And yeah, these have been the worst few months of my life, but I’d do it all again because it’s you, Eggs.”

“I’m so happy I married you, love. You have been so amazin’ through all of this.” He pauses. “And we did it just in time, didn’t we? 6 months after our marriage and this happens. I don’t want to think about the odds of me believin’ you if we weren’t married. What proof would there have been?”

“Eggsy, I would not be above contracting Kingsman to help me edit some footage if that’s what it took. Anyway, Daisy knows and loves me, we have plenty of pictures and a few videos of us. We would’ve gotten there.”

“But I wouldn’t have got to hear that speech you gave me before you put my ring back on.”

You roll your eyes. “It wasn’t that good.”

“It was for me.”

“Well, I’m glad.” You pause. “So, I work tomorrow, do you want to tell everyone the news or should I?”

“Is everyone home right now?”

“Roxy comes home tomorrow afternoon, but other than that, yes.”

“Alright, do you want to see if they want to meet for drinks after work and I’ll meet you all there?”

“Yeah, sounds great.” You lean in and kiss him before moving to lay back down. “I’m so happy you're back.”

“I am too.”

You nod against your pillow. “Now, unfortunately, I do still have to go to work in the morning.”

“I know, I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be. I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

He shrugs. “I know. A gentleman would still say it, though.”

“Shut up and lay down so I can hold you.”

“Wow, I remember our life together, and not twenty minutes later, you’re tellin’ me to shut up again. What happened to my nice, sweet, girlfriend I went to bed with?”

“You woke her up in the middle of the night and got married. Also, I know you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

He scoots down the bed until he’s lying down and pulls you into his arms. “I wouldn’t. Thinkin’ back, it's a bit sad, the docile creature you became around me. I don’t ever want that from you again. Unless you decide that’s who you want to be one day, but now I know you were scared I'd leave. I'm so sorry, love.”

You shrug. “You didn't know what you were going to do. We both did our best. Like I said earlier, Eggs, I’d do it again if I had to. It’s you.”


End file.
